


Don’t wake me just yet

by Jabean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, F/M, Faux Betrothal Arrangement, Gen, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabean/pseuds/Jabean
Summary: Harry, feeling broken and betrayed, sides with the Dark Lord after the events of the Department of Mysteries and the death of his godfather, leading to troubled times in Britain. Hermione partners with the House of Black and travels back in time to July of 1976, to defeat Lord Voldemort during the First Wizarding War and prevent one of the darkest families in Wizarding Britain from dying out, in order to save her childhood friend.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 192
Kudos: 436





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings!
> 
> Thanks for checking this story out!
> 
> Hugely massive thank you to my Alpha **fbbbgirl** and my Brit-picker/Beta **Lunamionny**
> 
> I can be reached on Tumblr. You can find me [here](https://jabean21.tumblr.com/). Please do be kind.
> 
> Please be warned... this particular story is a WIP and doesn’t have an update schedule. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Jabean ❤️

“Good luck,” Bill said as he squeezed her shoulder before taking a step back to stand next to Andromeda.

Hermione gave the two of them a curt nod of her head as she checked to make certain that her wand was holstered on her forearm and the long, thin chain of the time turner was secure around her neck. “Thank you.” She struggled to find the right words. “For everything.”

Bill grinned at her, his scars pulled tight on his face. His eyes were pained, sad. “Don’t thank us just yet, Hermione. We aren’t even certain this will work. It’s just that...”

“It’s our only hope. Our only option,” Hermione murmured quietly. “For Harry.”

“For _everyone,”_ Andromeda corrected as she peered around the drawing room of Grimmauld Place. “Remember what we went over?”

Clearing her throat, Hermione repeated what she, Bill, Narcissa and Andromeda had talked about over the last few weeks. “In order to save Harry – in order to save the Wizarding World – we need to save the Blacks.”

Andromeda frowned as she began to recall a specific time, decades earlier. “On the night of the fifteenth of July, 1976, Sirius was tortured by Walburga and Orion. He was close to death when he fled Grimmauld Place. So much so that Euphemia and Fleamont Potter had to take him to St. Mungo’s after he’d arrived on their doorstep.” She paused for a moment. “I was working at St. Mungo’s that night. I saw him arrive via emergency floo-travel. It was… it was bad, Hermione. _Horrific._ You need to prevent that from happening. That was when it all went to absolute shit.”

Hermione gave the older witch a sad smile. “And nothing can prevent that better than having a Muggle-born appear in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, hollering at the top of her lungs about the destruction and eventual extinction of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.”

“It’ll certainly get their attention, if anything. We know that there is no way they’d listen to you unless they’re forced to,” Bill muttered dryly as he checked the time on his watch before grabbing his wand. “You need to go now, Hermione. Me and Andy need to leave. At any moment, Harry will know we’re here, if he doesn’t know already. We can’t risk it any longer.”

Hermione gave him a curt nod and fiddled with the time turner in her hands. “Be safe, be strong, be good.”

“Always.”

Hermione double-checked that the device was set to the appropriate date, exactly twenty-one years earlier. Her eyes met both Bill’s and Andromeda’s once again. “Goodbye.”

She spun her time turner just as the door to the drawing room burst open, admitting Harry along with a handful of others that she couldn’t make out as time, and spells, began to streak by.

Clutching the dainty chain as tightly as she could, Hermione clamped her eyes shut. The rapid motion was beginning to make her feel queasy. On and on it went. Her ears were humming and her hands tingling. Magic was slipping all around her, brushing gently against her flesh.

She felt time begin to slow down once again, and blinked open her eyes just as she came to a stop in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place.

“INTRUDER!” A hoarse voice bellowed from somewhere behind her. 

Hermione spun around and snatched her wand from the holster on her forearm just as the first spell was cast in her direction. She was able to put up a strong shield before it made contact with her. “What year is it?” she bellowed back at the dark haired witch glaring at her.

Two males stared at her in shock from the large sofa in the centre of the room. The older, well-dressed man held up a hand as he slowly rose from the sofa. “Walburga… put your wand away for now.”

“Intruder!”

“Yes, we heard.” The man rolled his eyes as he took a cautious step closer to Hermione, who was still hiding behind her shield charm. “As did everyone in Islington, I’m sure.” He had his hands raised in a placating gesture, indicating that he meant no harm.

Hermione took a reactionary step or two back, bumping into the wall behind her. “What year is it?” she repeated. “I need to know the year. Please.”

“1976,” the younger male, who looked about fifteen or sixteen, stated as he slowly stood up from his seat. “The twelfth of July, to be exact.”

“Sirius?” Hermione questioned sharply. The sharp cheekbones and icy cold eyes were a welcoming and familiar sight. She watched as he deflated ever-so-slightly. “Regulus then…” She swallowed. “My sincerest apologies, we’ve never met before.”

She jumped as the older man reached out and snatched the time turner from around her neck. He had used Hermione’s distraction with Regulus to get closer to her and reach through her shield charm.

“A time turner,” he murmured knowingly as he curiously peered at the smoldering necklace. “Time travel.” His grey eyes pierced Hermione’s own. “When do you come from? I won’t ask again.” 

Hermione lowered her wand, disengaging her shield charm and searched around the room, taking in Regulus who was watching her with an intrigued expression on his face, and Walburga who was still glaring at her. “Where’s Sirius?” she countered, jutting out her chin.

The man chuckled. “Do you honestly believe you are in a position to negotiate?”

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. “I know enough to know that the only person I _can_ trust, however small that trust may be, is Sirius Black. So… where is he?”

“Who are you?” Walburga asked her instead. “What is your name, child?”

Hermione cleared her throat and gave the witch a slight grin. “Hermione Granger.”

“Of the Dagworth-Granger family?” Walburga questioned sharply.

Hermione snorted. “If I told you I was, would you believe me?” She watched as Regulus bit his bottom lip to hide his smirk. “I’m quite talented at potions, so that’s something I suppose. Top grades in my year even, much to Malfoy’s dismay. I would love to tell you all about some very interesting topics, like the destruction and eventual extinction of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. But, I can assure you I won’t be saying a _bloody_ thing until someone brings Sirius down here.” She paused. “I assume he’s up in his bedroom, keeping away from all of you.”

There was silence as the occupants of the room digested her words.

The older man cleared his throat after a moment. “Regulus, if you could bring your brother down here, that would be most appreciated.” He spoke quietly as he continued to cautiously watch Hermione.

“Yes, father.” 

Hermione watched as Regulus quietly and quickly slipped out of the room. Her eyes darted back to the older man. “Lord Orion Black?”

He gave Hermione a subtle nod of his head. “Yes, Miss Granger. Please take a seat.” He gestured to an empty chair near the fireplace. “Can Kreacher get you anything? Some tea perhaps?”

Hermione chuckled dryly as she sat down on the chair indicated. “No thank you, Lord Black. I would hate to ingest some Veritaserum by mistake.”

His eyes twinkled as he sat back down on the large sofa. “You know the House of Black well.”

“Not well enough,” she countered quietly as she clasped her hands together and placed them on her lap. She gave Walburga a tight smile. “Lady Walburga Black.”

_“Mudblood,”_ the witch hissed back in response.

“Quiet!” Orion waved his wand at Walburga, silencing her instantly. “My apologies, Miss Granger. My wife doesn’t understand the meaning of cooperation.”

“It’s no matter. I’ve heard the term before, plenty of times.” She heard the sound of feet clambering down the wooden staircase just outside the room. “It no longer holds any meaning for me.”

The door to the drawing room swung open, allowing Regulus to re-enter. Following closely behind him was none other than a young and healthy-looking Sirius Black.

He raised a brow at her, but otherwise remained silent as he took a seat on the sofa next to his father.

Hermione allowed herself the tiniest amount of relief before focusing once again on the task at hand. _Step Two: Convince Orion and Walburga Black to help her._ Both Narcissa and Andromeda had warned Hermione that it would likely be one of the more difficult tasks for her to accomplish and had handed her a sealed letter with orders to give it to Orion the first chance she got.

“We did what you asked,” Orion interrupted her thoughts. “Now tell us what you meant by the ‘destruction and extinction’ of the House of Black.”

Hermione frowned. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, to be honest with you sir. I mean the actual destruction and eventual extinction of the House of Black. I come from a time where there is no longer anyone in the Wizarding World that carries the family name.”

“When do you come from?” Sirius asked her after a moment of silence. “Reg said you’re a time traveller.”

Hermione nodded. “I was given a time turner to come back to this time –”

“By who?” Regulus cut her off as he leaned forward in his seat, placing both hands on his knees.

Hermione pursed her lips at the interruption. “I was given a time turner to come back to this time in July, 1997.”

“You’re telling us that this entire family dies off in July, 1997?” Orion was unable to hide his shock, his disbelief.

Hermione shook her head. “No, not at all.” She took a deep breath as she pulled the sealed letter out of her coat pocket and reached out to hand it to Lord Black. “The last Black was killed in June of the previous year. The rest of you were dead long before then,” she said as she sat back down on the edge of her chair.

She watched as Orion thoughtfully brushed his fingers over the intricate wax seal on the back of the envelope. 

Sirius started chuckling, drawing Hermione’s attention away from Orion. “Good riddance, I say. Why mess with a good thing?” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest.

Hermione huffed in annoyance. “Because your death led to your godson siding with You-Know-Who. It led to him killing Dumbledore and murdering his friends.” She watched as Sirius’ grin melted off of his face. “It broke him. _Completely._ Please… I need your help.” She swiped at her cheek, brushing off a solitary tear as she peered around the room at everyone. “I need everyone’s help to make it right; to fix it before it all turns to shit.”

“The seal on this letter is that of this House,” Orion quietly informed the room. “It is enchanted so that only those who belong to the House of Black are able to open it.” His eyes met Hermione’s. “It curses anyone who tries to break the seal who isn’t a Black.”

Hermione nodded as she held out her hands for Orion to inspect. “Narcissa warned me not to peek at her letter to you. She said I would end up with a cursed burn on my hands if I did.”

“Let me read over this letter in private,” Orion said after a moment or two of silence. “The fact it is from Narcissa confirms that the situation that Miss Granger has found herself in is extremely dire, to say the least. I don’t believe Narcissa would willingly work with a Muggle-born girl unless she absolutely had to.” He rose from his spot on the sofa and waved his wand at Walburga who had been sitting silently in her chair. “Come, dear. Let’s head to the study and read this letter together. It is addressed to the both of us, after all.”

Hermione watched in silence as the two left the room, leaving her alone with Regulus and Sirius. She exhaled slowly before turning her attention to the young men sitting on the sofa, both watching her with mistrust and intrigue. “What?” 

Regulus frowned. “I’ve never heard father refer to a Mudblood as a Muggle-born before. You must have them rather nervous.”

Hermione snorted. “Your mother called me a _Mudblood_ when you were sent to fetch Sirius. I’m sure your parents are perfectly fine.” She swallowed. “Your father is merely being polite. He is showing me the minimum amount of diplomacy only because I have information that he wants.”

“The safety and interest of the House of Black is first, Regulus,” Sirius lectured quietly. “Everything else is secondary, including blood status.” He raised a brow as he peered thoughtfully at Hermione. “At least for the time being.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “You seem quite calm for someone who’s just been told that their godson is in cahoots with You-Know-Who.” She didn’t understand how Sirius was so subdued.

He shook his head at her comment. “I have no friends, not anymore. I’ve burned that bridge entirely.” He sighed. “Which means, no godson for me.”

“What? Why?” Hermione looked between the brothers. “What the hell happened?”

Sirius snorted. “You tell me.” He leaned back on the sofa and tucked both hands behind his head. “You say you’re from the future. _You_ tell _me_ what happened if you’re so clever, Granger.”

Hermione blinked and took in a short breath as she wracked her brain for whatever it was that had happened. “1976...” She muttered as she looked between Regulus and Sirius once again before focusing on the dark wood floor before her. “1976. That means you, Sirius, are going into your sixth year this September and Regulus is going into his fifth. Correct?” She peered at the two teenagers sitting on the sofa.

Regulus nodded. “Correct.”

Hermione hummed for a moment as she peered thoughtfully at Sirius. “You told me the summer before _my_ fifth year that people do stupid things when they’re fifteen or sixteen. You said that I needed to keep my head on straight.”

“Not good enough.” Sirius shrugged. “You could’ve heard that from anyone and said it was from me.” 

He started to get up from the sofa.

“Just hang on!” Hermione snapped at him. “I’m thinking!” Her mind was whirring with everything that she knew about Harry’s godfather.

The door to the drawing room swung open once again. Orion and Walburga Black shakily made their way back into the large room. Their expressions were somber. Their robes black as coal. 

_“Snape!”_ Hermione blurted out. “You tried to kill Snape!”

Sirius slumped back on the sofa and held his head in his hands. _“Merlin’s ballsack.”_

“Is that why Snape was in such an odd mood after his O.W.L examinations?” Regulus pondered aloud. “He looked like he’d come face to face with a beast and just barely managed to get away.”

Hermione merely raised a brow at Sirius as he fearfully peered at her.

“Why’d you try to kill him?” Regulus pressed his older brother. “I mean, I know you can’t stand one another, but I’d have never thought you’d go through with trying to off Snape.” He paused as he scratched his chin in thought. A small smirk was barely evident on his face. “How’d you not get expelled?”

“Because it would look abhorrent to the rest of the Wizarding World if Albus were to expel the Heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black,” Walburga informed the room as she primly returned to her seat. “A fact that your father and I reminded the Headmaster of when we were notified of the incident.”

“While you’ve been hiding up in your bedroom upon returning from Hogwarts, your mother and I have been contemplating what exactly we wished to do with you, Sirius.” Orion sighed tiredly as he stood behind the large sofa and peered down at his children. “You’ve been a disgrace to the House of Black since the moment you set foot at Hogwarts and began associating with half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and muggle-loving fools such as the Potter Family. Do not think that our prevention of your expulsion was done without expectation of something in return.”

Hermione watched Sirius as he sat stiffly and stared straight ahead. His jaw was clenched tightly as he listened to his father’s reprimand.

“As a matter of fact, earlier this evening your father and I had come to an agreement with regards to what we expected, Sirius.” Hermione turned her attention to Walburga, who was staring at her with a cold expression as she spoke. “However… upon Miss Granger’s arrival and after reading Narcissa’s letter explaining a fair number of things, we’ve decided to forego our original plans.” She pursed her lips in disappointment. “At least for the time being.”

“According to Narcissa, it is imperative that we find a way to help Miss Granger integrate into this time. She says that this is the only way we can prevent the House of Black from dying out. Tell me child, what is your age?” Walburga peered down her nose at Hermione as she waited for her reply.

Hermione cleared her throat. “I’m seventeen. My birthday’s the nineteenth of September.”

“Cissa mentioned that you were unable to finish your sixth year at Hogwarts.”

“That’s correct. I fled Hogwarts after Dumbledore was killed at the end of April.” Hermione swallowed, her throat was tight with emotion as she remembered that night only a few months earlier.

“Which one of us dies first?” Sirius bluntly asked, changing the topic.

_“Sirius!”_

“It’s a legitimate question and one we’re all wanting to know the answer to.” Sirius waved off his mother’s reprimand. “I’m obviously the last one to go.” He raised a brow at Hermione. “Who’s the first?” 

Hermione held Sirius’ gaze for a moment or two. His eyes were the same cold, emotionless grey that his parents and brother all sported. _Almost._ She could see the smallest hint of concern. He was worried about the news that she had brought with her. His earlier disregard for the House of Black was merely a façade.

Interesting.

Hermione involuntarily stole a peek at Regulus sitting on the far side of the sofa.

_“Shit,”_ Sirius muttered in disbelief. _“Reggie?”_

_“No!”_ Walburga wailed. “My baby? My _perfect_ heir…” she began sobbing loudly into a handkerchief.

“I must remind you all that my mission here is to save the House of Black,” Hermione said quietly after a minute or two of listening to Walburga’s wailing. “After careful and thorough research, Narcissa, Andromeda, Bill Weasley and myself all agree that, in doing so, the events that I and the rest of the Wizarding World experienced will be prevented.” She cleared her throat. “While I fully believe that this family is full of… absolutely vile and horrific individuals, I hope that over time these individuals can change to become better people.”

There was silence for a few moments while the members of the House of Black digested Hermione’s words.

“When am I supposed to die?” Regulus was the first to break the silence. He peered at Hermione with eyes full of concern.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s irrelevant because you won’t be dying, I swear.” She paused for a moment as she chose her words carefully. “I know how to prevent it from happening.”

She shook her head once again and sighed tiredly. “This particular date was chosen as the day I travelled back to in order to prevent Sirius from being tortured within an inch of his life and eventually blasted off of the Black Family Tapestry.” Hermione swallowed. “I assume that whatever plan that you – Walburga and Orion – had for him was something that you both knew he wouldn’t agree with.” She raised a brow at Walburga who was looking at her with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Which brings me back to my earlier point about the vile individuals that are unfortunately a part of this family.”

“It is an honour to serve the Dark Lord!” Walburga bellowed at Hermione as she leapt up from her chair while jabbing a finger at her. “The Dark Lord knows that the proper place for you Mudblood scum is under the heel of us pure-bloods. You’re all nothing but filth. He believes in taking our world back from the half-bloods, half-breeds and Mudblood swine that have been destroying our traditions. You are stealing power that is not rightfully yours!”

Hermione scoffed loudly, shaking her head at the woman before her. “Your Dark Lord _is_ a half-blood, you stupid bint.” She peered at the others as they watched her in shock before focusing on Lady Black once again. “Your Dark Lord is a half-blood wizard who is desperately grasping for power.” She sighed as she slowly rose from her seat. “How embarrassing is it that a family so incredibly proud of its blood purity decides to kneel before and serve a half-blood? You are so blinded by hatred and insanity that you refuse to see what is right in front of you.” Hermione peered into Walburga’s eyes. “It’s pathetic.”

A sharp slap met the side of Hermione’s face. The loud crack of Walburga’s hand across her cheek seemed to echo in the otherwise silent and stunned room. “You lie.” Walburga’s voice was quivering with a barely controlled rage as she pointed a long finger at Hermione.

Hermione held her hand to her cheek to sooth the stinging heat and shook her head at the older woman. “Tom Riddle,” she hissed, watching as the slightest hint of recognition passed across Walburga’s face. “A Slytherin student the year behind yours, correct?”

Walburga remained silent but her anger appeared to be dissipating.

“I can honestly say that I don’t give two shits whether you or your husband die. The two of you are irrelevant to the survival of the House of Black and unnecessary in winning this war.” Hermione removed her hand from her face and peered down at her wet fingers. Walburga’s long nails had broken her skin and drawn blood. She met the other witch’s gaze once again. “I do, however, care deeply about your children. _Both_ of them. And I will do my hardest to make certain that both Sirius _and_ Regulus survive this war. Is that understood?”

She waited until Walburga gave her a shaky nod of her head.

“Good.” Hermione cleared her throat as she returned to her seat. “Now… you mentioned that Narcissa informed you about my inability to complete my sixth year. What is it that you and Orion had in mind?”

Walburga blinked at Hermione but otherwise remained silent as she returned to her chair. She appeared to be lost in thought. Hermione’s words to her were obviously sinking in.

Orion cleared his throat. “We’d have to move quickly, but Walburga and I can send you to Hogwarts to complete your sixth year along with Sirius.” He paused for a moment and frowned. “Do you feel like that is an appropriate measure for us to take to aid you with your integration into this time?” He gestured to the no longer smouldering time turner on the coffee table. “You cannot go back to your time.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ve nothing to go back to. No one to go back to.” It was one of the reasons she was chosen to travel back in time.

“Narcissa has asked us to leave the time turner at our vineyard in France.”

“I’m sure she has her reasons.” Hermione gave Orion a sad smile. “How are you going to convince the Headmaster to allow me into Hogwarts? I’m sure he’d want to know why a seventeen year old girl, whom he has no record of, would decide to finish her education at his school.”

Orion smirked as he gave Hermione a little shrug. “Arrangements can be made quite easily if one has the resources to know which cards to play.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Lord Black. “A monetary donation, in other words.” She paused, frowning for a moment. “Paired with blackmail, I presume.”

“You don’t think as highly of Albus Dumbledore as most other light-leaning individuals often do,” Orion responded curiously. “Why is that?”

Humming quietly as she chose her words carefully, Hermione pressed her fingers against the still-stinging cheek Walburga had slapped earlier. “I’ve been fighting this war since I was a first year at Hogwarts. Unknowingly selected like a chess piece for the _Greater Good_ because of who my friends were.” She cleared her throat. “While I don’t know _everything_ there is to know about Dumbledore, I do know that some of the decisions he made in regards to certain individuals in my time has led to my best friend choosing to stand _with_ You-Know-Who rather than against him.”

She peered at Orion who was watching her closely. “I can honestly say that I wouldn’t at all be surprised if you had something to blackmail the Headmaster with.”

“You’re right not to trust him,” Walburga told Hermione quietly with a wide grin and wild eyes. “Albus Dumbledore has more skeletons in his closet than–”

“Quiet!” Orion abruptly cut his wife off. “Miss Granger,” he gave Hermione a tight smile, “please rest assured that you will be joining both Sirius and Regulus at Hogwarts this September to complete your education.” Hermione gave him a nod before he continued. “I ask for you to join us for dinner. There’s a small bathroom just outside this room for a quick wash, if you’d like.”

Hermione gave Lord Black a curt nod of her head as she rose to her feet once again. “Thank you, sir.” 

She quickly left the drawing room in search of the bathroom.

~ | ~

Hermione sighed into the hand towel as she dried off her face. A slight movement behind her caught her attention as the door swung open. Her eyes met Sirius’ in the mirror as he leaned against the doorframe watching her.

“Don’t you knock?” she asked him before she could stop herself. She wasn’t certain how long he’d been waiting outside the bathroom for her.

He shook his head before holding up a tiny bottle for her to inspect. “I have some Essence of Dittany. For your cheek, if you need it.”

Hermione spun around and held out her hand. “I do, actually.”

Sirius stepped into the small bathroom and kicked the door part way shut. He gave her a grin as he stepped closer to her, crowding her as she bumped against the sink. “Let me,” he murmured quietly, his breath brushing lightly against her cheek.

Hermione swallowed and tilted her head back, giving Sirius a better angle to dribble the healing solution onto her wound. “If you insist.”

“Oh… I very much do insist.” He unscrewed the stopper and held it just above her cut cheek. “It would be uncouth for the hosts to allow our guest to heal themselves from injuries sustained here at Grimmauld Place.”

Hermione flinched slightly as the first drop of Dittany splashed against her cheek and began to smoke slightly as it went to work.

“Even if my mother _has_ gone completely round the twist.”

Hermione couldn’t hold back her snicker. This was the Sirius she remembered from her previous stay at Grimmauld Place prior to her fifth year.

“Hush,” Sirius chided her kindly as he returned the stopper to the bottle and set it on the sink counter. “We wouldn’t want mother, or father for that matter, getting any ideas.” He hummed quietly as he inspected her cheek. “There… fully healed.”

His thumb brushed her ear as he leaned in even closer, causing Hermione to gasp quietly.

“Be very careful with what you say around my mother and father, little lion,” Sirius whispered in her ear. “You’re in a house full of snakes.” He stepped back from her and raised a single brow in warning.

Hermione swallowed, giving Sirius a shaky nod of her head. “I know,” she murmured back. “Trust no one. Andromeda warned me before I came back here.” She frowned at Sirius. “How’d you know I was in Gryffindor?”

Sirius grinned at her question. “Takes one to know one, I guess.” He shrugged as he grabbed her coat that was hanging on the handle of the door and pulled the door open. “Come.” He offered his elbow for Hermione to grasp. “I’ll show you your bedroom and then take you to dinner.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Does Missy Hermione need Kreacher for anything more?” the little elf sleepily asked Hermione as he set a large mug of hot chocolate down on the table before her.

Hermione shook her head as she clasped the mug in both of her hands, warming them instantly. “No, Kreacher. I apologise for waking you so late in the night.” She gave the strange elf a cautious smile. “You can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“Kreacher will do that.” The elf hobbled over to his cupboard tucked away in the back of the kitchen, pulled open the little door and slipped into the tiny room before closing the door with a snap.

Sitting in silence in the dimly lit kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Hermione pondered her new experience with the Black family house elf. Since dinner, when Walburga had ordered Kreacher to treat Hermione as if she were a pure-blood witch, the old elf had been almost pleasant.

It was a stark contrast to the house elf she had come to know the summer before her fifth year. 

She blew on her steaming mug before taking a tentative sip of her drink. Savouring the rich chocolatey taste, Hermione unzipped her bum-bag that was on the table and pulled out her self-inking quill, notebook, and the locket that she and Dumbledore had found just prior to his death.

It was an _almost_ nightly ritual for her to write out whatever it was that was keeping her awake. Sometimes she’d focus on her monumental task and all that it entailed, other times she’d merely write herself a list of supplies that she and the remaining Order members would need to purchase the next day. 

It was a trick that she had learned from Remus shortly after Harry had publicly sided with Voldemort. The two of them would often sit in the kitchen of Shell Cottage or some other safe house in the middle of the night and chat with one another over steaming mugs of hot chocolate. 

Hermione sniffed and wiped a stray tear from her cheek as she thought of her mentor. She clutched her quill and began to start another list, this time about Horcruxes.

> _1\. Diary_
> 
> _2\. Ring_
> 
> _3\. Locket(?)_
> 
> _4\. Unknown_
> 
> _5\. Unknown_
> 
> _6\. Unknown_
> 
> _7\. Unknown_

She frowned at the vague list before jotting down information that Dumbledore had imparted with her before his death.

> _\- According to A.D., seven most likely. Why? Most powerful magical number. H.S. memory. Seven Hs or six plus T.R.? A.D. refused to answer..._
> 
> _\- What? A.D. says that T.R. is obsessed with Hogwarts founders. Orphan - Hogwarts was home. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor. Diary & Ring - personal to T.R._
> 
> _\- Where are they?_
> 
> _\- How to destroy? Diary - Basilisk venom, Ring - unknown (A.D. didn’t say…)_
> 
> _\- How many are already created?_

Peering at her list, Hermione tossed her down her quill in frustration and wrapped her arms around herself, thankful for her cozy jumper.

There were far too many unknowns for her liking. Too many questions without answers. Too many Albus Dumbledore secrets.

She knew he had theories about the various Horcruxes, yet he had treated it as if it were an academic test, and had refused to answer most of her questions during her sixth year. He had used Hermione’s thirst for knowledge and love for her friends to get her to begin the hunt for the pieces of Voldemort’s soul. 

Hermione huffed to herself quietly as she grabbed her mug of hot chocolate. “Manipulative bastard,” she muttered under her breath before taking a sip.

“Who’s the manipulative bastard?”

Jerking slightly at the interruption to her thoughts, Hermione peered up at Sirius standing in the doorway wearing loose pajama bottoms and a Hobgoblins band t-shirt. “Just the headmaster,” she said to him as she quickly tucked her notebook and quill back into her bum-bag. 

Sirius padded over to her, sat down in the chair next to her and hummed noncommittally. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, changing the topic as he eyed her bum-bag.

Hermione shook her head. “I’ve not slept very well for quite some time.” In the months prior to her arriving in the past, there were far too many Death Eater raids in the dark of the night for her liking, resulting in her or Remus keeping watch through most of the night. It was a lesson they had all quickly learned after the devastating raid on the Burrow. “I had a mentor recommend that I write down what’s keeping me awake.” She paused. “He said that it was a way to organise my thoughts and keep me from feeling overwhelmed. He recommended hot chocolate as well,” she murmured as an afterthought, grinning at Sirius. “Said it was the cure for many ailments.”

Sirius had an amused expression on his face. “He sounds like someone I know. Someone clever.”

“He was, yes.” Hermione’s fingers brushed along the rim of her mug. “One of the cleverest, kindest people I’ve ever known.”

The sound of footsteps making their way down the stairs directly above them, caused the two of them to put a stop to their conversation. A moment later, Orion stepped into the basement kitchen wearing a full set of wizarding robes.

“Will this be a nightly occurrence, Miss Granger?” Lord Black asked her as he sat down at the head of the table after waving a hand to light the room further.

“M-my apologies sir.” Hermione swallowed. “I’ve not been able to sleep through the night in quite some time.”

She watched him as he nodded slowly at her explanation. His eyes dropped down to the locket still on the table, the one that Regulus had left behind in the cave.

“So you’ve decided to steal things that don’t belong to you?” Orion raised a brow at her and gave her a subtle grin. “I do know my family heirlooms, Miss Granger. That locket is one of them.”

“I haven’t stolen it.” Hermione clasped the locket in her hand, hesitating for a moment before she handed it to Orion. “I brought it with me.”

_“Granger…”_ Sirius’ warning was low but firm. She needed to be careful with what she said to his father.

“May I explain before you open it?” Hermione asked Lord Black as he peered at the locket in his hands.

He gave her another nod of his head. “Please do.”

Exhaling slowly, Hermione thought about her overarching mission. “Dumbledore… _no.”_ She shook her head at herself before starting again. “In my time, when I started Hogwarts, the belief that was held by a lot of Wizarding families was that You-Know-Who had been killed about a decade earlier. Of course, not all families believed that. A lot hoped that that was the case, but many knew that You-Know-Who was most likely biding his time.” She searched both Orion and Sirius’ faces, making certain they understood what she was telling them. “In my first year, my friend fought someone who’d been one of You-Know-Who’s followers, who was after something called a Philosopher’s Stone.” She paused. “Do either of you know what that is?”

Sirius shook his head as he looked to his father.

Orion was frowning. “I’ve heard rumours of such a thing existing. It’s a stone that is supposed to prolong one’s life, I believe.” He looked to Hermione to see if he was correct.

Hermione gave him a grin. “Exactly. When in possession of the stone, the owner is considered to be immortal.” She sighed before taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “My friend was there to save the day. The stone was destroyed. The owner eventually died of very old age.” She cleared her throat. “Second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened–”

_“Bullshit…_ that’s a myth,” Sirius cut her off.

Hermione grinned at him. “It’s not actually, the entrance is in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Of course, no one will be able to open unless they’re a Parselmouth.”

Orion hummed knowingly. “That's rumoured to be Heir of Slytherin business.”

“It is,” Hermione quietly agreed. “The most important part about that year is that a diary was destroyed using the fang of a Basilisk. The venom, specifically.” Clearing her throat, she continued. “Not much happened in my third year. At least, nothing relating to this particular locket. A prisoner escaped Azkaban, friends were reunited, but the bad guy got away.” She frowned as she thought of Pettigrew. He was someone she’d have to watch during her time at Hogwarts. “My fourth year was when You-Know-Who came back officially.”

“Pardon the interruption, but why do you refer to Voldemort as You-Know-Who all the time?” Sirius was watching her with concern as he asked her the question. “Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself, does it not?”

Hermione hummed quietly before nodding. “It does, yes. But, I’m mostly doing it out of habit. You see, in my time he found a way to create a taboo on his name. Anyone who dared to speak it was soon met with a squad of Death Eaters and, if they were even more unlucky, my friend. Or, rather, ex-friend. He had quickly become V-Voldemort’s right hand soldier after defeating the individual who killed you, Sirius.” She swallowed, her throat was tight with emotion. “They both had taboos on their names – their monikers – as a matter of fact. We found out about that the hard way.”

“How does all this relate to the locket, Miss Granger?”

Sighing, Hermione peered sadly at Orion. “Because You-Know-Who has figured out a way to become immortal, and your son learned about that small, but _very_ important fact before he was killed.” She gestured to the locket still clutched in Orion’s hand. “Regulus left a note behind. It will help explain some things to you, if you wish to read it.”

Orion stared down at the locket before meeting her gaze once again. “Regulus left this?”

“He did, apparently. Both Narcissa and Andromeda confirmed the locket belonged to the House of Black and that the writing is Regulus’.” She paused, watching Orion closely. “I was actually hoping to ask you some questions about a few things he mentions in his note. Something that Dumbledore refused to answer.” Hermione gave Orion a small frown as she pointed once again to the locket.

Orion took the bait just as she knew he would and popped open the locket.

She watched as he carefully unfolded the piece of parchment. Watched as he hid his mouth behind his hand and he began to read Regulus’ eloquent _fuck you_ to Voldemort.

Clearing his throat after a moment or two of silence, Lord Black brought his gaze back to Hermione. “Do you know how Regulus died?”

“There were Inferi in the lake surrounding the small island where the locket was being kept. I assume he was pulled under when he went to get a drink of water.” Hermione exhaled slowly. “Consumption of the potion that the locket was in led to a sort of delirium for the drinker from what I could tell, and extreme thirst.”

_“Shit.”_ Sirius’ shock was obvious. His love for his brother was etched on his face.

“I don’t know for sure that’s what happened, but given my time with Dumbledore in that particular cave, it would be my best bet.” Hermione frowned as she remembered that time only a few months earlier. Her ankle still pained her from time to time where the Inferi had grabbed onto her and tried to pull her underneath the water. A psychosomatic symptom, she was certain.

Orion frowned to himself. He appeared to be warring with his thoughts, his beliefs. “I _will_ help you, Miss Granger. I was never as loyal to the Dark Lord as Walburga is. My family comes first, it always has. After some thought and consideration, as well as word from yourself, Narcissa in her letter and now Regulus with his own, I understand that the House of Black’s loyalty to the Dark Lord will lead to its demise.” He sighed before peering at Hermione with concern. “I highly doubt Walburga will help you beyond what is needed to keep up appearances.”

Hermione took a peek at Sirius who gave her a subtle nod of his head. She could trust Orion. At least a little bit. “I understand.”

“Now… I have a question for you, before we get started. Do you know where this cave is?” Orion asked her calmly.

Hermione nodded. “I do. But, I don’t know if the locket is there yet.” She paused. “And I’ve got no way of getting inside.” At Orion and Sirius’ looks of confusion she elaborated. “There are blood wards of some sort at the entrance. One needs to be at least a half-blood.”

“A rudimentary security measure at best.” Orion shook his head. “How arrogant.” He sighed tiredly as he folded up the note once again and tucked it back into the locket. He handed the locket back to Hermione and clasped his hands together as she tucked the jewelry back into her bum-bag. “What did you need help with, Miss Granger?”

“While I know that there are more than one of the types of items mentioned in Regulus’ note, I don’t know how to destroy them.” It was the overwhelming weakness of their plan to go back in time to prevent everything from happening the way it did: Hermione had no way to destroy any of the Horcruxes she was hoping to find. “I know how one _was_ destroyed in my time… but it’s impossible for me to replicate that method of destruction.”

“What are these items you’re talking about?” Sirius asked her. He was looking between Hermione and Orion.

“Items of Dark Magic,” Orion murmured to his son. “The darkest, most abhorrent magic one can practise. Unnatural and _wrong._ Very, very wrong.” He paused for a moment. “Regulus knew of them though, or he _will_ in the future,” he frowned, presumably thinking of his youngest son. “Which would mean he must read about them somewhere.”

Focusing his attention on Hermione once again, Orion gave her a small smile. “I will search our library for information for you. Does that sound acceptable?”

Hermione nodded earnestly. “It does, sir. Thank you.” She currently had no other way to safely read the many dark tombs in the Black family library. Narcissa and Andromeda had warned her of the curses their family liked to place on many of their books. It was something she had also been warned about by Sirius the summer prior to her fifth year. 

Help from Orion with research was a compromise that she knew she needed to make.

“These items… how many are there?” 

Hermione turned in her seat to peer at Sirius as she pondered his question. “I-I’m not sure. At least, I’m not sure how many there are at this point in time.” She cleared her throat as she thought of a way to explain herself. “Dumbledore believed there were seven. But… from what I _do_ know of them, I don’t believe they are all created just yet.” She thought of the snake that had attacked Mr. Weasley over Christmas Break in her fifth year. She thought of Harry and his ability to speak Parseltongue and Voldemort’s ease at manipulating him with his own emotions all throughout their O.W.L. year. “I also don’t know if seven includes the original piece or not.” 

Orion frowned at the information. “Seven separate items would make him highly unstable, I would think.”

“That’s true. But, it’s also the most powerful magical number.” Hermione thought back to her hastily written notes that she had tucked away. “And that was the number Tom brought up with a professor when he asked about them. I saw the memory myself.”

There was silence for a few moments as they all digested her words.

“You mentioned earlier that many Wizarding families believed the Dark Lord to be dead. When does that particular belief come to fruition?”

Hermione frowned. “The autumn of 1981.”

Orion hummed quietly, narrowing his eyes at the two teenagers. “So we have roughly five years to identify and destroy these items.” He gave Hermione a warm smile. “We have time, Miss Granger.”

“I was actually hoping to prevent certain events from happening,” Hermione insisted quietly.

“Are these events tied in with the House of Black?” Orion asked her. “I only ask because you assured us yesterday that you would do everything you could to prevent my family from succumbing to the tribulations of this war.”

Hermione nodded jerkily. “They are, yes.”

“What happens then? The events you speak of?” Sirius asked her with concern.

Hermione sighed as she chose her words carefully. “For a lot of people who were fighting on the frontlines, it all went sort of pear-shaped.” She scratched her arm through her cozy jumper. “I don’t know how to explain it without telling you everything.” She paused for a moment, thinking quickly. “A lot of people were killed, or in You-Know-Who’s case were thought to have been killed. Some other people were tortured to insanity, while others were thrown into Azkaban.”

Orion swore quietly as he held his head in his hands. _“Azkaban…_ that’s the second time you mentioned that place.” He stared at Hermione, his eyes were dancing with a thousand questions. “It’s important.”

Hermione took a tentative sip of her hot chocolate, if only to calm her nerves. She nodded. “It is. The prisoner spent twelve years in prison not only for a crime he _didn’t_ commit, but never got to have a trial for. He broke out the summer before my third year.”

“But… Dumbledore is the Chief Warlock. He oversees all trials,” Sirius muttered worriedly. “Why would he allow that to happen?”

_“Well…”_ Hermione chuckled humourlessly. “It depends on who you ask, really. Bill Weasley said that he knew that there were a load of things happening at that time. Numerous trials were occurring from the break of dawn until well after sunset. He said it all may have gotten lost in the mass of arrests. Dumbledore may have forgotten, or thought the individual had gotten a trial.” She swallowed before clearing her throat. “Andromeda, on the other hand, argued that Dumbledore _forgot_ on purpose. She said he was a chess master that needed certain chess pieces in specific places for his plan to work properly. The individual in question was a foil in his grand plan. Andy believed that the Headmaster used the person’s surname against him. He threw him to the dogs, so to speak.” Her eyes sadly met Sirius’ own and saw that he understood, at least in part, what she wasn’t saying.

“And Narcissa?” Orion asked her curiously. “What did she think?”

Hermione frowned as she stared down at her hands. “She likened Dumbledore to You-Know-Who and said that they are far more similar than they are different.” She sniffed quietly. “Narcissa said Dumbledore is getting children to become soldiers in order to fight the war, much like You-Know-Who is. They’re just on different sides of the chess board.”

Hermione paused as she took a sip of her hot chocolate. “I also need to say… I don’t have five years, Lord Black. I’ve got three,” she softly continued. “The autumn of 1979 is when Regulus was killed.”

“And how are you going to prevent that from happening?” Orion questioned her. “I assume you’ve got a plan of some sort.”

Hermione nodded. “I do, a rough plan. But, I have some questions for you first before I share. I think it’s only fair.” She waited until Orion gestured for her to continue. “How are you going to convince the Headmaster that I should be allowed into Hogwarts? Specifically, I mean. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”

Orion hummed as he looked between Hermione and Sirius. “Your mother and I discussed this amongst ourselves last night after sending our letter to the Headmaster requesting a meeting, Sirius.”

Sirius sat up straighter in his seat and clasped his hands together. “What did you agree on?”

“Many traditional pure-blood families, like the House of Black, believe in betrothals, or arranged marriages,” Orion began explaining to Hermione. “They are used for political purposes, as well as a way to keep the family pure.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. Andromeda had explained this to her already, or warned her it seemed. Her marriage to Ted Tonks was what resulted in her being blasted from the tapestry. She had fallen in love and married a Muggle-born rather than gone through with her expected betrothal arrangement.

“We both agreed that having Miss Granger as your betrothed, Sirius, is an easy way for her to be allowed into Hogwarts and accepted by her peers.” Orion held up a hand before either Sirius or Hermione could interrupt him. He focused on Hermione. “As of right now, Miss Granger, as far as anyone is aware, your parents hired tutors for you rather than sent you to Hogwarts as they were living somewhere outside of the United Kingdom. It is not exactly common in this day and age, but families _can_ tutor privately instead of sending their child to Hogwarts or some other Wizarding school to obtain a magical education.”

“What about my O.W.L.s?” Hermione asked him worriedly.

“We will deal with it at the appropriate time,” Orion assured her. “We can notify the Ministry over the next few days with what O.W.L.s, or their equivalents, you’ve received and have them send that information to Hogwarts.”

“Money,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

“Indeed. It is a wonderful motivator.” Orion gave her a knowing grin before continuing. “We will say that we’ve had a long-standing betrothal agreement with the Granger family. Many will assume that you are from the Dagworth-Granger family. It is best if you allow them to have their assumptions. Neither confirm or deny their beliefs. Vagueness will be the key to your success.” He sighed tiredly and cleared his throat. “Officially, this betrothal is the House of Black’s last attempt to control our troubled heir. Our prevention of Sirius’ expulsion at the end of his fifth year allowed us to hold this over his head.” He paused, thinking carefully. “While appearances during your final years at Hogwarts will be exceptionally important to maintain _especially_ now, this betrothal is _not_ real. Is that understood?” He was staring pointedly at Sirius, leaning forward slightly in his chair as he looked at his eldest son.

“You don’t want me to dirty the family name.” Sirius shook his head as he chuckled quietly. “Do you have any idea how many Muggle-born and half-blood witches I’ve had sex with?”

Hermione’s eyes grew large as she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. She hadn’t realised this was where the conversation had been headed. 

Orion frowned. “Regulus said four. I trust you used protection. Nothing has appeared on our tapestry suggesting otherwise.” He appeared already bored of Sirius’ challenge.

Sirius opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it without a word. He crossed his arms across his chest and slouched in his chair. _“Git.”_

“This betrothal will also allow you a modem of protection, Miss Granger,” Orion continued, ignoring Sirius’ comment.

“Because I’m really Muggle-born, you mean.” Hermione frowned at the proposition. “The House of Black wouldn’t dare have a _real_ betrothal arrangement with a family that wasn’t pure.”

“Precisely.” Orion rubbed his chin in thought. “Walburga will be taking you to Diagon Alley to purchase some more appropriate clothing later today.”

“I don’t have any gold. I left my coin purse behind for the Order.” She didn’t even have an account at Gringotts Bank at this time.

Orion waved off her concern. “It’s no matter. Consider it a gift from us to you.” He gave Hermione a small smile. “Are you now comfortable with sharing how you plan to save Regulus from a horrific death?”

Hermione nodded. “Narcissa, Bill, Andromeda and myself all agree that in order to help Regulus, in order to protect him, I’ll need to be sorted into Slytherin. He’s my priority right now. I need to prevent him from getting the Dark Mark.”

Sirius hissed quietly as he once again sat up straighter in his chair. “Granger… you _must_ be joking.” He was peering at her with concern.

Hermione shook her head at his comment. “I can assure you, I’m not.”

“A Muggle-born has never before been sorted into Slytherin,” Orion informed her. He was peering at her with disbelief.

“Is that what you know to be true sir, or is it what you assume?” Hermione challenged Lord Black using his own words against him.

A tapping on the kitchen window interrupted Orion’s rebuttal. He sighed as he stood up from the table and made his way to the waiting owl. 

“It’s from the Headmaster,” he said after giving the owl a treat and sending it on its way. He frowned as he made his way back to the table, opening the letter as he did so.

“He’s open to meeting with Walburga and I today.” Orion’s eyes darted up to the ancient clock on the wall which indicated it was almost six o’clock in the morning. “He will meet with us at seven o’clock at Hogwarts.” He had a wry grin on his face as he shook his head. 

“Why so early?” Hermione didn’t understand what Dumbledore was doing. She hid a yawn behind her hand.

“He doesn’t wish to be seen with us, Miss Granger. But, if he is he needs to have an explanation in place. He has a reputation that he needs to maintain.” Orion was grinning in amusement. “Kreacher!” he called out to the Black family house elf.

The elf in question quickly exited his cupboard. “Yes, Master Orion.”

“Make us some breakfast, if you would. Walburga and I have a meeting in an hour.” He pushed back his chair and left the room, likely to wake Walburga up from her slumber.

Hermione watched as Kreacher quickly got to work making what looked to be a full English breakfast.

“Have you seen a house elf before?” Sirius asked her after a moment or two.

Hermione gave him a cautious grin. “I have actually. A fair number of them, Kreacher included.” At Sirius’ look of confusion, she explained a bit further. “Before I arrived here yesterday, I’d been in this house before. I lived here during the summer before my fifth year. A group of us did, including you.”

“Why?” It was such a simple, yet complex question.

Hermione clutched her mug of hot chocolate and shrugged. “For your godson.” She took a sip of her drink. A vague answer, but it was the truth.

Sirius narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t comment further. “You’re a strange one, little lion.” He rubbed sleep out of his eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

~ | ~

Hermione stood nervously on the fitting platform of Twilfitt and Tattings as the seamstress began to take her measurements.

Walburga was watching her thoughtfully from some distance away, allowing the seamstress room to do her job, while Sirius sat in an ornate chair with it’s back towards the front window.

He had his elbows on his knees and his head held in his hands, the ramifications of what they’d discussed with his father early that morning appeared to be finally sinking in.

As far as anyone was aware, Hermione and him were now betrothed. It was now up to Sirius to convincingly sell the lie in order to protect her from scrutiny or something far more sinister.

“You’ll need to remove your dress,” the seamstress broke the tense silence.

Hermione blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

“Your dress, child. Not only do we need to see with our own eyes that you’re not a half-breed hiding in plain sight, Lady Tattings needs to know what will fit you best. Measurements over one’s clothing are only so accurate and the chosen spouse for my heir must _always_ look her best.” Walburga subtly raised a brow at Hermione. The order was there for all to see.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable with this,” Hermione murmured before she could stop herself.

_“It is tradition!”_ Walburga barked at her. “The witch or wizard who is marrying into the higher status family must stand bare before their betrothed for final approval. Far too many arrangements have had to be nullified by half-breed witches or wizards attempting to tarnish the families within the Sacred Twenty-Eight!” She jabbed a finger at Hermione and glared at her with wild eyes.

Hermione swallowed and took a quick peek at Sirius who, still staring at the floor, was now clenching his fists.

A hand reached out to gently grasp Hermione’s own and gave it a squeeze. “No one from the street can see inside, dear. I promise. It’s just the four of us, no one else. This will be over before you know it.” Lady Tattings gave her an understanding and warm smile as she gestured for her to remove her clothing.

Hermione exhaled slowly as she began to unbutton the plain, dark blue dress that Walburga had given her for the trip to Diagon Alley. Her fingers fumbled on the buttons as she tried to get a hold of her nerves. This wasn’t something she had expected to happen during a fitting. Her experience at Madam Malkin’s was nothing like this.

Sirius’ eyes remained firmly planted on the floor as he tried to give her as much respect as possible.

Hermione cleared her throat and focused on a spot on the hardwood floor as Lady Tattings helped remove the last of her dress, leaving her in nothing but her bra and knickers.

“What happened to your chest?” Walburga bluntly asked her. Her hands were firmly planted on her hips as she scrutinized the young witch before her.

“I found myself at the wrong end of a wand,” Hermione quietly informed her about the distinct purple mark left over from Dolohov’s curse that she’d been hit with at the Department of Mysteries.

“The culprit… were they punished?” Sirius questioned as he took a hesitant peek up at her.

Hermione hesitated and frowned. “I believe so.” Dolohov _had_ gone to Azkaban after all. “But… I’m not entirely certain.” He was also a part of the mass breakout a few months into her sixth year.

Walburga began her inspection of Hermione, looking from her feet to her hair as she slowly made her way around the fitting platform.

Hermione pressed her lips tightly together, knowing already what the next comment would be about.

Walburga came to a halt behind her, her shoes scuffling slightly on the floor. “The mark on your shoulder blade?”

Hermione clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking and forced herself to speak. “It’s just a small scratch… nothing more.”

“Lady Tattings… leave us for a moment.” Walburga’s order was quiet. Calm. She waited until the door to the back of the shop clicked shut before speaking. “Explain, Miss Granger.”

“Greyback scratched me.” 

Walburga hissed and took a step back from her. Sirius swore. Hermione shook her head at the both of them. 

“It wasn’t during the full moon, I swear.” Hermione paused. “I promise, I’m fine. It just can’t heal anymore than it has.”

“When did this happen?” Sirius’ concern brought him to his feet and he began inspecting the small wound on her shoulder.

“Um…” Hermione’s voice wavered slightly. “A little over a week before I showed up here.” She sniffed and wiped her cheeks as she remembered Remus’ final words to her, telling her to run. “I didn’t realise I would be undergoing an inspection. This never happened at Madam Malkin’s.”

“That’s because Madam Malkin’s deals with _all_ sorts, including Mudbloods and half-breeds.” Walburga came around the platform to face Hermione. “This is a fitting for a traditional betrothal, inspections are required. Appearances are important to maintain, especially for the House of Black.”

“Mum,” Sirius tried to chastise her. “This was really unnecessary. I’ve already agreed without the inspection.” He reached over to a silk dressing gown that was hanging nearby, grabbed it and handed it to Hermione for her to cover up.

Hermione shivered as the cool material brushed against her skin. Her fingers were numb and shaking as she tied the belt of the short dressing gown. While Dementors were not wandering the streets during this time, their effects were still very much felt by her.

She gasped quietly as Sirius stepped up onto the platform with her and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly.

“It’s going to be alright, little lion. I promise,” he muttered in her ear before pulling back slightly. “Let’s have Lady Tattings finish her measurements, then we can go and sit out in the sun and have some ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s. How does that sound?”

“But–”

Sirius shook his head. “Mother will leave us after this. I’m sure she has plenty that she needs to do today.” He raised a brow at his mother before giving Hermione a grin. “Let me take you out for some ice cream, please. You barely touched your breakfast this morning.”

“Can we go to Flourish and Blotts afterwards? It’s been ages since I’ve been there.” Hermione felt a little self-conscious, but she could really do with a good book to read.

Sirius barked in laughter as he stepped off of the platform. “Of course. We can pick a book up for Regulus as well. He loves that place.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Hermione fiddled with the pleats on her borrowed dress as she sat out on the patio of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, watching the young families, couples, and a handful of single witches and wizards make their way past as they went about their day.

While everyone appeared to be in a hurry, no one seemed to be especially fearful. Not one soul appeared terrified to be out in public and out of the safety of their homes.

It was a welcome change and one, Hermione knew, that wouldn’t last for much longer.

She sadly shook her head. 

While it was depressing to realise that many witches and wizards wouldn’t make it through the First Wizarding War, she knew she wouldn’t be able to save everyone. It was a fact that both Narcissa and Andromeda had told her that she needed to accept, or her mission would be guaranteed to fail.

She gave Sirius a tight grin through the window of the shop as he grabbed a couple of spoons and napkins before making his way out onto the patio with their ice cream treats.

Walburga had begrudgingly allowed her and Sirius to spend the remainder of the day together in Diagon Alley after Sirius had spent the rest of Hermione’s fitting arguing with his mother that he should get to know who his betrothed was outside of their time spent together at Grimmauld Place.

“Strawberry for the little lion,” Sirius cheerfully stated as he set Hermione’s bowl down on the table in front of her and handed her a spoon and napkin. He plopped down on the chair across from her and gave her a grin as he jabbed his spoon into his own ice cream.

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured as she took in the large serving of dessert. “This is massive.” She shook her head as she placed the napkin on her lap. She didn’t want to spill anything on Walburga’s old dress. “I’m quite certain I asked for a small size, not this monstrosity.”

Sirius chuckled as he took a spoonful of his chocolate ice cream. “Nonsense. Smalls are for kids,” he told her after swallowing the cold treat.

Hermione hummed noncommittally as she had a taste of her ice cream. It was delicious, just like she remembered.

“I’m sorry about earlier at the fitting,” Sirius began apologising. “I didn’t realise mother was going to insist on something like that until it was too late.”

Hermione held up a hand, halting his apology. “It’s alright. I was just caught off guard, that’s all.” She swallowed before sighing. “I naively thought that she wouldn’t insist on something so traditional during my fitting. I didn’t even know such a thing existed.” She gave Sirius a hesitant smile. 

There was plenty, Hermione realised, that she was unfamiliar with when it came to the Wizarding World.

“She didn’t need to do it though.” Sirius shook his head adamantly. “That’s old rubbish, stripping down like that for the betrothed to see.”

Hermione shrugged. “I think it’ll be something that I’ll need to learn before heading back to Hogwarts.”

Sirius nodded in agreement, but remained silent. He cleared his throat after a moment. “I suppose if we are going to be doing this and doing it well enough to pass scrutiny, we should probably try to get to know one another.” He frowned. “I mean, you obviously know me already, but…” he trailed off.

“We should,” Hermione agreed. “And I don’t really know you. I promise.”

“Did you want us to ask each other questions about ourselves?” Sirius asked her quietly. He sighed in relief when Hermione nodded eagerly. “Okay… uh… do you have any siblings?” He frowned at his first question.

Hermione shook her head. “Nope. I’m an only child.” She paused. “I wasn’t very close to any of my extended family either. Are you close to any of your cousins?”

Humming, Sirius shrugged. “I am with a few. Andromeda is probably my favourite cousin, but she’s a bit older than me. We’ve not spoken much since she was disowned though. I’ve got an uncle as well that I get along with.”

“Are you close with Andromeda’s family? Her sister, I mean.” Hermione was curious at what his answer would be.

“Which one?” Sirius raised a brow at her question.

“Narcissa. I wouldn’t even think to ask about Bellatrix.”

Sirius frowned as he munched on his ice cream. “We’re alright, I guess. We’re not close or anything, but… she’s civil enough.” He paused for a moment, obviously thinking. “She’s very good at being the perfect pure-blood witch. The best, really. I think she’s had to be since Andy was disowned. Bella is too much of a wild card. I mean… she obviously married who she was supposed to and lives like she’s supposed to, but… she’s a nutter in every sense of the word.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Have you met her? Bellatrix?”

“I have… _once.”_ She grimaced as she thought back to the Department of Mysteries. “Once was enough.”

Humming in agreement, Sirius gave her a grin as he had more of his dessert. “Yeah… she definitely has that effect on people.” He narrowed his eyes at Hermione. “Boyfriend?”

“Do I have one? Or have I ever had one?” Hermione enjoyed another spoonful of her ice cream.

“Have you ever,” he clarified for her.

Hermione shrugged as she narrowed her eyes in thought. “Not really. There was one boy, but it wasn’t all that serious. I was more focused on my studies and _other_ things.”

“Who’d you sort of court?”

“A quidditch player,” Hermione told him. “A professional quidditch player, named Viktor Krum. In my fourth year, we had a Yule Ball and he asked me if I wanted to go with him.” She shrugged shyly. “We kept in touch afterwards. I went to visit him over the summer once. He was really nice.”

“Why’d you have a Yule Ball?” Sirius’ confusion was evident. “We have dances occasionally at school, but nothing as extravagant as a Yule Ball.”

“The Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts.”

_“No shit.”_ Sirius peered at her with wide eyes. “It’s been a couple hundred _years_ since the last one.”

Hermione sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Sirius shook his head. _“Blimey._ Was that when Voldemort…” he let the question taper off.

“Yep.” Hermione had another spoonful of her ice cream and refused to comment further. “Do I want to know who you’ve courted?”

“Just the four witches,” Sirius reassured her, grimacing slightly. “And courting is probably stretching it a bit for three of them.”

Hermione nodded slowly, but remained silent as she waited for Sirius’ next question.

“Who’re your mates at school?” he asked her after a moment. “Is that too spoilery?”

Chuckling, Hermione shrugged. “It is, _but_ I spent most of my time with a handful of Weasleys, a Lovegood, a Finnigan and a Thomas, as well as a few others.”

“Who are the others?”

“I don’t know if I should.” Hermione shook her head sadly.

“Granger… I’ve got a pretty good idea already. Please humour me.” He looked at her pointedly. “I promise not to overreact or tell anyone else.”

Hermione searched his eyes, making certain she could trust him. “Potter and Longbottom,” she murmured quietly. 

She watched as Sirius closed his eyes upon hearing the names. He exhaled shakily. _“Fuck,”_ he said after a few minutes of silence. His grey eyes met hers once again. This time they were sad. Pained. “Can you ask me?”

“Who are your friends?” Hermione gave him a small smile that she hoped was comforting. She understood his need to keep the conversation moving. Now wasn’t the time or place for any in-depth discussion regarding his potential godson.

Clearing his throat, Sirius answered her. “Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew were the _best_ friends one could ask for before I went and fucked that up. Longbottom’s someone I’m also somewhat friendly with, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in detention with the bloke.”

Hermione raised a brow. “Is that the measure of a friendship? Whether or not you've spent time in detention with someone?”

Sirius nodded. “In my mind, yes.” He chuckled sadly. He took another few minutes to get his emotions under control. “Enemies?”

“One. A witch – an adult if you can believe it – that’s had it out for me since my fourth year.” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “But, _hopefully_ this time around she leaves me alone.” She thought of Rita Skeeter, wondering if she had yet to become an unregistered animagus.

“An adult,” Sirius muttered in amusement. “Interesting.”

“Have you got any enemies?” Hermione wondered what Sirius would tell her.

_"Snivellus_ Snape.”

Hermione frowned at the nickname. “Why?”

He sighed tiredly, shrugging. “He just… he’s _bad._ He always has been.”

“That’s hardly an answer,” Hermione criticised. She needed to know if they’d be able to make amends. Snape was one of the people that Remus asked her to save. One of the people he begged her to try to prevent from choosing to join Voldemort. According to both him and Dumbledore, Snape was the reason Lily and James were killed by Voldemort; he had been the one to overhear part of the prophecy that had set the events in motion which led to Harry losing not only his mother and father, but his godfather and the life he should’ve had growing up.

“Do you really want to know?” Sirius asked her. At Hermione’s nod he continued, “I hate the greasy git. He bathes in Dark Magic… he reeks of it, but he was never raised in it. He _chooses_ to practise it. He sticks his head where it doesn’t belong and tries to manipulate people into doing things they don’t want to. He’s a tosser, plain and simple.” He frowned, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand why Lily was _ever_ friends with him. Thank Merlin she cut that friendship right off after he called her a _you-know-what.”_

“But, if I’d been asked by someone to _help him_ what would you say?”

“I’d say you’re barking mad,” he snapped at her, before crossing his arms across his chest and peering at her in confusion. “Who asked that of you?” he questioned her quietly after a moment.

“Remus,” Hermione told him. “He practically _begged_ me, as a matter of fact.”

_“Why?”_

“It’s complicated,” she admitted. “I don’t feel comfortable telling you here out in the open.”

_“Shit,_ Granger.” Sirius shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re asking a lot.”

“I’m well aware.” She had a small spoonful of her ice cream and thought to herself for a few moments as she enjoyed her treat. “Maybe that’s something we can slowly work towards later on. I don’t think it needs to happen right away.” She paused. “Ask me something else. Nothing too serious.”

Sirius nodded as he had a few more spoonfuls of his ice cream. “Do you have a favourite lesson?”

“It’s a toss up between Ancient Runes and Charms for me.” She gave him a grin. “What about you?”

“Transfiguration is hands down my favourite.” He pursed his lips in thought. “Second for me would probably be Charms as well.”

“Not Defence?”

Sirius snorted. “Nope. Too many awful professors. Haven’t learned much that I didn’t already know.” He swallowed another spoonful of dessert. “Did you have good Defence professors?”

Hermione grimaced, shaking her head. “No, unfortunately. Most of them were rubbish. Third year was the only year I had a good professor.”

Sirius’ eyebrows raised in interest. “Spoilers?”

“Good spoilers,” Hermione reassured him. “I think you’d approve.”

He hummed in response before narrowing his eyes at her. “Have you ever been in detention?”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione nodded. “I have… but it was usually my friends who wound up scrubbing cauldrons or polishing trophies without magic.” She paused. “I was usually able to either talk my way out of it, or just never got caught. I _was_ a Prefect, you know.”

“What’s the most troublebreaking thing you’ve done then?” Sirius asked her with a grin. “Something that you didn’t get caught doing.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as she stirred her slowly melting ice cream. She thought about her time at Hogwarts. “I jinxed a sign-up sheet to a secret Defence club in my fifth year which caused the student who spread our secret to break out in spots,” she told him with a grin, remembering her time in _Dumbledore’s Army._ “I also set a professor on fire in my first year. Although, that isn’t really a prank, is it? Neither of them are really.” 

Sirius regarded her with heated eyes and gave her a roguish grin as he leaned forward in his chair. “Did the professor deserve it?” he asked darkly, watching her intently.

Hermione tried, and failed, to hide her shiver at his tone of voice. He obviously approved of her actions, as ruthless and cunning as they were. 

She cleared her throat, ignoring her body’s response and peered at Sirius, who had a knowing smirk plastered on his face. “I thought so,” she told him quietly. “But, I found out later on that they were trying to protect a student. I thought at the time that they were trying to harm them.” She paused. “I never hurt the professor, thankfully. Just set their robes on fire.”

“What about the student… did they deserve it?”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Most definitely. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

Sirius’ grin widened at her response. “Remind me to never piss you off then.”

Hermione leaned forward in her chair, both hands pressed flat on the table and stared pointedly at the young man sitting across from her. “Sirius Black, don’t even _think_ about pissing me off. It will be the worst thing you could do.”

He barked in laughter, and just like that, the spell was broken.

Hermione popped another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth as she leaned back in her seat and narrowed her eyes in thought. “How’re you and Regulus? Are you two close?”

Sirius frowned at her question and shrugged. “We used to be. But, since I’ve been sorted into Gryffindor we’ve begun to slowly grow apart.” He hesitated for a moment. “We’re alright, honestly. We just try to avoid each other as much as possible while at school. There’s far too much rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin with everything that’s going on. But… he’s my brother. I love him.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what,” Sirius confirmed with a curt nod of his head.

The pair enjoyed their food for a few minutes in silence, before Sirius blurted out another question that had obviously been on his mind for a while. “Did you want to talk about the wounds on your body?” 

Hermione looked down at the table and shook her head before meeting his gaze once again. “I don’t really. Not today.”

Sirius sighed in disappointment. “One day?” He gave her a concerned look.

Hermione nodded. “One day. I promise.”

The pair sat for a few more minutes in comfortable silence as they finished up their ice cream treats.

Setting her spoon in her now empty bowl, Hermione clasped her hands together and peered thoughtfully at Sirius. He raised an eyebrow at her in question. Her eyes darted around the pair of them, making certain no one was close enough to listen in. “How do betrothals work?” she asked him as she leaned forward in her chair a bit. She should’ve asked Andromeda or Narcissa for more information prior to arriving here. 

“It depends,” Sirius told her. “We’ll find out more at home about how ours will work. I’m sure mum and dad are fine tuning the details right now as we speak. But, before I give you the basics, can you tell me what you _do_ know of them?”

“Not much,” Hermione admitted quietly. “Andromeda mentioned that she had one, but she married Ted Tonks instead of her betrothed and ended up getting disowned as a result.” At Sirius’ slow nod, she continued, “Narcissa told me basically the same thing your father did. That they are a way to keep the bloodline as pure as possible and are often used for political purposes.”

Hermione frowned, thinking back to her late night talks with Andromeda and Narcissa the week prior to her arriving at Grimmauld Place. They had been trying to subtly enlighten her about what to possibly expect, but she had been grieving the loss of Remus too much to really listen to their warnings. “Um… I don’t really know how they work in the Wizarding World, to be honest with you.”

“That’s alright,” Sirius tried reassuring her. “They aren’t really practised anymore by anyone other than those in the more traditional pure-blood families.”

“Like the Sacred Twenty-Eight?” Hermione questioned him.

Sirius nodded. “Some other pure-blood families as well, not _only_ them. But, it’ll usually depend if they’re marrying _into_ the Sacred Twenty-Eight or not, if that makes sense. Take the Potter Family, for example. They’re a pure-blood family that’s married into the House of Black at one point, and you can bet all the gold in Gringotts that that marriage was a betrothal arrangement between the two families. It was a political move, not one born out of love.” 

He sighed as he tiredly rubbed his face before leaning forward in his seat and propping his elbows on the table. “There are certain traditions that take place in betrothals, but I’m quite sure we wouldn't have to follow most of them.” He paused for a moment, thinking carefully. “Usually, when the betrothal arrangement is accepted, there’s a party of sorts to celebrate the coming together of the two families.”

“But, considering I don’t really have a family,” Hermione followed his train of thought, “it’s likely that won’t happen.”

“Exactly.” Sirius gave her a grin. “Lucky for you, the House of Black is paranoid and exceptionally private. There won’t be a stuffy ball celebrating our engagement. Even if it _is_ fake.” 

Hermione nodded in understanding. She was relieved that she wouldn’t have to face any of the traditional pure-blood families just yet. She wasn’t certain she’d be able to pass the scrutiny that she knew she’d be put under.

“In today’s day and age, the couple would have to wait to be married until _after_ they finished their magical education. There’s a law in place to protect children from being married off to adults,” Sirius grimaced as he spoke. “I know of a few relatives of mine that were married in their early teens to an older spouse.” 

“You mean like a recently graduated witch or wizard?”

Sirius snorted, shaking his head. “Nope. I’m talking about a thirteen year old being married to a forty year old.” He shuddered in disgust. “That hasn’t happened in awhile though.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Traditionally, once they get married, the couple would have to produce an heir of their own as soon as possible in order to guarantee the furthering of the family line, but the House of Black has had difficulty with that due to the significant inbreeding that’s gone on in the family.”

Hermione nodded slowly, remembering a fact Andromeda had told her of her family. “Your parents are cousins, aren’t they? Second cousins, was what Andy had said.” She couldn’t help but crinkle her nose in disgust. “That explains a few things though, I suppose.”

Sirius hummed knowingly. “My charming personality, you mean?” he smirked. “Or are you talking about my third nipple?”

Hermione snickered. “Don’t lie. I know you don’t have a third nipple.” She started laughing a bit harder.

Sirius had a large smile on his face as Hermione eventually got herself back under control.

“I meant your cousin Bellatrix’s obvious insanity in my time, or your rashness perhaps,” she told him quietly, watching as his smile melted slightly. “I don’t mean it disrespectfully at all.” She frowned at her choice in words. “I just meant… in the Muggle world, marriage between closely related individuals is almost always frowned upon. Obviously siblings are a no-go nowadays, but I remember reading in a book about various royal families throughout history and in different cultures, where marriage between brother and sister was often encouraged before they realised that it was causing issues. Mainly genetic deformities and psychological issues.” She took a short breath before plowing on, “I believe marriage between cousins was the response to that… in order to keep royal blood royal. But, still… it’s not necessarily a good thing to be so related, especially if your spouse is a closely related cousin. There isn’t a lot of variance–”

Sirius reached out to grab both of Hermione’s hands and gave them a squeeze, causing her to stop her ramblings. “I agree,” he told her quietly. “But… my _rashness,_ as you say, is most likely due to my temper that I have a difficult time controlling sometimes.” He frowned. “My _temper_ is what got me into this mess with Snape in June. He knew exactly what to say to piss me off enough to no longer see reason.” He clenched his jaw tightly and shook his head. “He’s a manipulative prick, and, if you _do_ succeed in getting sorted into Slytherin to help Reggie you’re going to need to understand that.”

Hermione swallowed and gave him a jerky nod of her head.

“You’ll also need to be very careful with what you say about stuffy pure-bloods, especially since you’re supposedly marrying into a family that practises marriage between cousins.” Sirius looked at her pointedly with an understanding grin on his face. He gave her hands another squeeze before releasing them.

It was a gentle chastising, but one that she needed to hear. “What else should I know about betrothals?” Hermione asked him nervously after a moment. She didn’t like not having all the answers.

“Well… courting for me is officially finished,” Sirius informed her dryly. “For you as well. No one will court you now that you’re officially tied to the House of Black.” He frowned, narrowing his eyes at Hermione. “I wonder if that’s why father set you and I up.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologised softly to him. “I didn’t realise.”

“It’s no matter.” Sirius waved off her concern, but Hermione could see that it bothered him more than he’d likely ever admit.

“Are we supposed to act like a couple while at Hogwarts?”

Humming, Sirius gave her a half shrug, half nod. “If you wanted to, I’d be more than happy to spend time with you outside of class time. We can study with one another and go to Hogsmeade together, that sort of thing.” He paused. “It doesn’t have to be really showy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Hermione sighed in relief. She was worried that she’d have to act like Pansy Parkinson did as she simpered after Draco Malfoy day-in and day-out.

“You’re relieved. _Ouch,”_ Sirius jokingly chided. He patted his chest over his heart.

Hermione shook her head at him. “It’s not that. I just… there was a girl in my year who was clinging onto a boy since… since first year, I think. I was just worried that I’d have to act like her.”

“Oh… _this_ I’ve got to hear.” Sirius leaned back in his chair and gestured for Hermione to explain. “Who are you talking about?”

“A pure-blood witch by the name of Pansy Parkinson. She used to talk in this sort of baby voice to a boy. It made me cringe when I was unfortunate enough to overhear it sometimes.” Hermione snickered quietly. “He's a relative of yours actually, the boy she was clinging onto.”

Sirius barked in laughter. “What’s his name?”

“Draco… Draco Malfoy.”

Sirius’ shoulders were shaking in amusement as he laughed at the reveal. _“Draco…_ named after the constellation of the same name, a favourite of Narcissa’s.” He comically tapped his chin in thought. “If I’m remembering my tutoring that I received as a child correctly, Draco can also be derived from the Latin term _draconem,_ which means ‘huge serpent’.” He gave her a sly smirk as he raised a brow at her. “He’s a Slytherin, undoubtedly.”

Hermione nodded. “Of course.”

_“Yeesh.”_ Sirius shook his head before chuckling once again. “I promise you don’t have to talk to me like that or hang off my every word like some sort of tart. Poor bloke.”

“Don’t feel too bad for him… I’m quite certain he liked the attention.”

Sirius shook his head in amusement as he stood up from the table. “Probably.” He grinned down at her as he offered her his hand. “Come, little lion. Let’s get you and Reg something to read.”

~ | ~

“Thank you for the… uh… the book, Miss Granger,” a hesitant voice broke the otherwise silent drawing room.

Hermione looked up from her new copy of _Hogwarts: A History,_ and spotted Regulus standing off to the side of the large sofa. He appeared uncertain, but was trying to hide it as much as possible.

She grinned at him as she closed her book and placed it on the coffee table. “There’s no need to call me Miss Granger, Regulus, Hermione is more than alright.” She paused. “Sirius was the one who bought you _Quidditch Through the Ages,_ though. He said you were the reserve seeker on the Slytherin team last year. Will you be trying out for the team again?”

Regulus frowned as he sat down next to her on the sofa. “Sirius said that you recommended it.”

Hermione nodded. “Sort of. I asked him what your interests were and he listed off a bunch of things as we made our way through Flourish and Blotts. One of the topics he mentioned was quidditch, so I suggested he buy you a book about the sport.” She gave him a grin. “It’s a gift from your brother, Regulus. Not me.”

_“Oh.”_ Regulus appeared to be at a loss for words. “I-I didn’t realise.”

“He cares a lot about you,” Hermione told him softly. “You know that, right?”

Regulus shook his head. “He doesn’t. I’m Slytherin. He _hates_ snakes, he’s told me so countless times.”

“For someone so incredibly clever, you are also ridiculously foolish,” Hermione huffed quietly, ignoring Regulus’ look of indignation. “The world isn’t split into good people and Slytherins. There are snakes outside of Slytherin, you know.” She gave him a pointed look as she crossed her arms across her chest. “Plenty of snakes. Some are even hiding out in other houses as we speak, waiting to strike the unsuspecting person when the time is right.” 

Regulus had a look of confusion on his face as she spoke.

“I’m quite certain what Sirius meant when he said that he _hates snakes_ is that he just really despises people who backstab others. He meant that he doesn’t like people who are two-faced.” Hermione watched him as he slowly began to comprehend her words. “There is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with being ambitious or cunning when the time calls for it. There’s nothing bad about being resourceful or looking out for one’s self.”

Regulus opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to argue with her. “I didn’t realise,” he said quietly after a moment.

“Now you do.” Hermione gave him a cautious grin. “But, you still haven’t answered my question. Will you be trying out for the quidditch team this year? Or is the spot still filled?”

Regulus looked at her with interest. “I’d like to. Rosier was our seeker until the end of this past school year. But, he’s graduated now.”

Hermione’s grin slowly faded from her face. “Evan Rosier?” She already knew the answer to her question.

Regulus nodded. “Yeah. Strange bloke, but… he’s from a good family.” He shrugged. “Do you know him?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. I’ve never met him, actually. I’ve just heard a story or two about him.” She remembered the tale Mad-Eye told her, Harry, and Ron during the summer before their fifth year. Rosier was the Death Eater who had taken a chunk of his nose off in a duel when he and four other Aurors had tried to arrest him. Rosier was killed by Moody, but not until after he had killed the other Aurors. “What makes him strange?”

“He was one of the few seventh years who had no idea what they wanted to do after graduation.” Regulus frowned. “Even _I’ll_ have to come up with a career choice of some sort, and I’m a Black. Rosier wouldn’t even commit to taking his rightful seat on the Wizengamot and actually refused all offers from professional quidditch teams.” He shrugged. “He’s just really… odd.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the information. “Interesting. Were you two friends?”

Regulus shrugged. “Not really.”

“Who _are_ your friends, Regulus?” Hermione asked him quietly. “Who would you trust with your life?”

“No one,” Regulus answered quickly. He peered at her cautiously, shaking his head. “I don’t trust any Slytherin in my year with my life, that’s for certain.”

“What about older Slytherin students? Those in my year?”

“I don’t… I don’t really trust them either. Not really.” Regulus paused. “There _is_ this one person that I have most of my classes with. We get along fine enough. I would even go as far to say we’re friends. But, he’s in Ravenclaw.”

Hermione raised a brow. _“Oh?”_

“Barty Crouch Junior,” Regulus muttered quietly as he looked around the otherwise empty drawing room for anyone potentially listening in. “His father’s the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry,” he rushed out. He peered anxiously at Hermione. “D-Do you know him?”

Hermione’s stomach sank to the floor. She gave him a little nod. “He hates his father.”

“Well… _yes,_ but…” Regulus frowned. Uncertain.

“He hates _all_ that his father stands for.” Hermione peered at him with concern. She believed that she was beginning to understand why the Regulus of her past had become a Death Eater. 

She’d just assumed that Bellatrix or Walburga had sunk their claws into the youngest Black and that he had fully believed in the cause until shortly before his death. But now she wasn’t entirely confident with that assumption.

Hermione cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully. “What I’ve come to learn by listening to the people who have survived this First Wizarding War, is that we often turn a blind eye to the actions that our friends may carry out. We don’t want to see them. We don’t want to listen to their questionable political views, or their thoughts on blood status.” She sighed, shaking her head. “We don’t want to see the worst in them, when we know what their best looks like.”

She sadly peered at Regulus. “Do you understand what I’m saying?” she asked him quietly just as the front door to Grimmauld Place loudly creaked open. Lord and Lady Black had just returned from their meeting at Gringotts.

Regulus’ wide eyes met hers and he gave her a shaky nod of his head.

He had understood her loud and clear.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve Eve 🎄 if that's your thing. (It is in my family, so I thought I'd share another chapter)
> 
> If it isn't a thing in your family/life... Happy December 23rd! Here's a gift from me to you!
> 
> Enjoy! ❤️

“You will act respectfully towards the House of Black at all times. If there is any indication that you are spreading mistruths about this House, or if you are informing other wizarding families about our secrets, this betrothal arrangement will be publicly annulled with immediate effect.” Walburga peered up from the long roll of parchment in her hands and gave her a pointed look over her intricate spectacles. “Your reputation as a witch will be in ruins, regardless of this arrangement only being for show. Is that understood?”

Hermione nodded and swallowed. Her throat was parched from extreme nervousness as she sat in the study with Walburga, Orion and Sirius while they went over the betrothal arrangement. “I’m unfamiliar with any of your secrets, I swear,” she insisted quietly. “All I’ve heard about the House of Black is from people who are not part of this family. I know only rumours, nothing more.”

“And it will stay that way.” Walburga cleared her throat, focusing once again on the long list of rules before her. “Vault seven hundred and three has been set up under the name Hermione Granger Black. You have access to it, as well as Orion and myself. Absolutely no one else.” She frowned before continuing, “You’ve been given a small allowance that will accumulate periodically. That is to say: four times per year. I trust it will be substantial enough to sustain you for quite some time, given that you are living here at Grimmauld Place with your betrothed until you finish your education.”

“Once I do finish my time at Hogwarts, am I to move out?”

Walburga looked to Orion who had been sitting silently next to her.

“That is something that we will have to come back to at a later date, Miss Granger.” He gave her a tight smile. “It will depend on where we are with the mission.”

“Of course.” Hermione relaxed a bit.

“Normally, the betrothed witch wears a ring from the family she is marrying into.” Walburga looked at her with poorly hidden disgust. “However, we must remove any potential curses on the ring before you are to receive it due to your blood status.” She frowned. “We’ve also had to take the ring to a curse-breaker and jeweler that we don’t usually associate with. It will take quite some time for this particular individual to complete the task.”

“How long?” Hermione asked Lady Black curiously. “Will I have it in time for when I leave for Hogwarts?”

“If not before, it will be soon afterwards.” Walburga shook her head in displeasure. “We will send our eldest an owl with the ring to give to you.” She narrowed her eyes at Sirius, who was sitting next to Hermione.

“Did you want me to make a big show of it?” Sirius asked his mother quietly. “Or do something more private?”

“Private would be best,” Orion answered him instead. “Officially, the ring is being cleaned for Miss Granger as it is older and hasn’t been worn in a few centuries.” He focused on Hermione. “Once you accept the ring from Sirius, you will be protected by the House of Black.”

Hermione nodded, but otherwise remained silent.

“What do you mean exactly?” Sirius asked his parents. “Are you talking about symbolic protections for Hermione, or real ones?”

“Both.” Walburga frowned at the question. “To an extent, at least. Obviously the ring cannot physically shield Miss Granger from most spells cast her way, should the need arise. However, she doesn’t appear to need any help in that area of defence.” She gave Hermione a pointed look, obviously thinking back to a few days earlier when Hermione had appeared out of nowhere in the drawing room.

“Most pure-blood families wouldn’t dare attack you, Miss Granger, if you are,” Orion gestured with a hand as he thought of the right word, “properly  _ welcomed _ into the House of Black.”

“And the betrothal ring illustrates my belonging in your family.” Hermione nodded slowly. “That explains the symbolic protections, but what are the real ones?”

“The ring that Orion and I have picked out for you will protect you from the effects of Veritaserum and Amortentia, as well as the most commonly used poisons,” Walburga informed her. “I highly suggest that you never remove the ring once it is on your finger. Albus Dumbledore was most intrigued when we paid him a visit the other day.” Walburga paused. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he were to invite you for tea in his office under the pretense of welcoming you to Hogwarts, where he then spikes your drink with Veritaserum to find out more about you, Miss Granger.”

“The lemon drops are spiked too, I’m sure,” Sirius muttered under his breath. “I always get more talkative when I have one of those things. It’s bloody annoying.” He chuckled quietly. “I rambled on about my Transfiguration exam when I was waiting for mother and father to show up after the Snape incident. I think it really irked the headmaster. Snivellus too.”

“Have you got a ring to protect yourself from Veritaserum?” Hermione asked him curiously.

He gave her a smirk and a nod as he held up his left hand. “Look closely.”

Hermione frowned. She hadn’t noticed him wearing any jewelry. “Which finger is it on?”

“Middle.”

She focused her attention on his middle finger and gasped when she was suddenly able to spot a black ring. “Have you always had this?” she asked him as she peered at the intricate detailing of the ring.

“I’ve worn it since I started Hogwarts,” Sirius told her quietly. “It’s been invisible unless pointed out by me since the winter break of my first year. I asked mother and father to allow me to do that as the presence of my ring in the Gryffindor common room was a talking point.” He shook his head. “Most pure-bloods in Gryffindor don’t bother wearing their family rings as far as I can tell, which is very strange considering it leaves them susceptible to being manipulated by far more cunning individuals.”

Hermione frowned. “The use of Veritaserum is against the rules at Hogwarts. Isn’t it?” She looked to Orion and Walburga and then peered with concern at Sirius. “I mean, my Potions professor made some during my fifth year after being ordered to do so by this  _ horrible _ witch who had temporarily taken over as headmistress. But, I remember reading that use of it is controlled by the Ministry.”

“Since when has Dumbledore listened to the Ministry, dear?” Orion raised a brow at her in question. 

“But…  _ why?” _ Hermione shook her head. “That’s what I don’t understand.”

“His  _ Greater Good.  _ He wants information he can use for his ridiculous  _ Order of the Phoenix,”  _ Walburga told her curtly. “Sirius would have plenty of information about various pure-blood families and their true allegiances as well as their thoughts on Dumbledore.” At Hermione’s look of confusion, she elaborated, “Each Christmas, an old pure-blood family hosts a gathering of sorts. This year the House of Black will be honoured with the tradition. Everyone present will be able to enjoy priceless wine and delicious food, and talk about politics without fear of any negative repercussions. Many families with opposing views are present, Miss Granger. It isn’t just the Sacred Twenty-Eight in attendance, other pure-blood families will attend as well.”

“Important issues are discussed at these gatherings first, before they’re brought up in official channels like the Wizengamot,” Orion informed her. “It’s how most things get done.”

“I had no idea.” Hermione frowned at the information.

“Perhaps this Christmas Sirius can formally introduce you to a number of families,” Orion suggested quietly. “You’ll have six months to prepare for the scrutiny you’ll undoubtedly be put under.” He looked between Sirius and Hermione before nodding curtly. Decision made. “I think that is a fair goal to work towards, Miss Granger.”

“Are there any families that you’re uncomfortable around?” Sirius asked her curiously.

Hermione swallowed. “Lestrange,” she chuckled quietly at Walburga’s knowing smirk. “And…  _ Dolohov.” _

“I cannot prevent the Lestrange family from being included because of Bellatrix. Although my niece and her husband only  _ occasionally _ take part,” Walburga informed her. “However, the Dolohov family will not be invited.”

Hermione exhaled slowly, relieved at the slight compromise. She’d deal with Bellatrix when the time came. “Thank you.” She frowned once again. “I don’t think they’d come, but… can you also leave out the Weasley family?”

“Is there something we should know about them?” Orion asked her curiously.

Hermione shook her head. “No. It’s just… I grew up with the Weasleys. I went to school with most of their children.”

Walburga gave Hermione a nod of her head before rolling up the scroll of parchment and handing it to her. “I highly suggest you read through what is written in this agreement over the next week. Then you can sign it and return it to myself or Orion for safe-keeping.”

Hermione hummed curiously at the order. “Alright.” It seemed like a lot of official parchment work for something that was supposed to be only for show. She clasped the scroll in her hands and cleared her throat. “Is there anything more you wish to discuss?”

“Wilton Tofty in the Department of Magical Education has sent your O.W.L. results to Hogwarts,” Orion told her. “You’ll be receiving your letter along with Sirius and Regulus shortly.”

“What classes do you plan on taking for your sixth year?” Walburga asked her curtly. “What did you take during your O.W.L. year?”

“All of the core classes, of course,” Hermione informed her quietly. “For my electives I took Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures. But, I think for sixth year this time around, I’ll drop Magical Creatures if that’s alright.”

Walburga nodded her approval.

“How’re your grades?” Sirius asked her with an eyebrow raised in question.

Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. “I’ve received an Outstanding in each class except Defence Against the Dark Arts. There I received an Exceeds Expectations.”

“What is it that you find difficult about Defence?” Orion asked her as he rubbed his chin in thought.

“It’s not that I find it difficult. Not really.” Hermione shook her head. “I was rudely informed by my sixth year Defence professor that I wasn’t succinct enough in the written portion of my O.W.L. examination and instead attempted to hide my insecurities as a Muggle-born by being an insufferable know-it-all.”

“What a git!” Sirius complained incredulously. “Thank Merlin there’s a bloody curse on the position. Was he fired at the end of the year? Or killed?”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer him, but was halted by Orion.

The wizard cleared his throat. “I assume your professor was a pure-blood individual with similar views to that of this family.”

Hermione hesitated. “Half-blood actually,” she corrected quietly. “And my Defence professor wasn’t exactly wrong either. I tend to be very  _ verbose _ with my written answers. I’m like that with all of my classes. I’ve always been that way.” She frowned, thinking of the inscrutable Professor Snape. “I believe it was his way of telling me to keep my head down and at least try not to draw attention to myself. You-Know-Who had unofficially taken control of the Ministry by the start of my sixth year.”

“He was warning you to not show all your cards,” Orion muttered quietly. “Slytherin?”

Hermione grinned. “Of course.” She shared a look with Sirius who was staring at her thoughtfully. “What?”

“I’m just trying to work out who you’re speaking about, that’s all.” Sirius ruffled his hair. 

“You don’t need to know everything, Sirius,” Walburga reminded her eldest son.

“Right.” Sirius rubbed his face tiredly and sighed. “Is there anything else we need to cover today? Or can I leave?”

“We’re finished… for now.” Orion gestured vaguely. “But, I’m certain we’ll have more to discuss at a later date.”

Hermione watched as Sirius practically leapt up from his seat and left the study without a backwards glance. She peered at both Orion and Walburga and slowly rose from her own chair. “I’ll… um… I’ll read over the arrangement and get back to you both within a week with any questions I may have.”

Walburga gave Hermione a gesture indicating she approved of her plan. “Miss Granger,” she called out to her once she reached the door. 

Hermione turned to look at the witch in question.

“That colour suits you.”

Hermione blinked in shock at the compliment and peered down at her periwinkle blue blouse and matching wide-leg trousers. “Thank you, Lady Black.” She frowned. “It’s a favourite of mine.”

She exited the study and instantly spotted Sirius standing at the top of the staircase. He gestured for her to follow him and the two began the slow trek all the way up to Sirius’ bedroom on the top floor of Grimmauld Place. 

Hermione followed quietly behind him as he slipped into his room. “What is it?” She watched as Sirius sat down on the edge of his bed, clutching something small in both hands.

He looked up at her question and threw her a grin. “Can you shut my door?”

Hermione frowned but did as she was told. “What’s going on?” she asked him quietly once the bedroom door was closed.

“Have a seat next to me, Granger.” Sirius wasn’t looking at her, instead he was grinning at the item in his hands. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Who?” Hermione asked as she sat down tentatively next to him on his four-poster bed.

“He can’t hear us yet,” Sirius told her as he pointed to the mirror in his hand. “I’ve got to touch the mirror just here,” he pointed to a small leaf etched into the frame.

Hermione couldn’t help but peer in shock at the face grinning and waving at the two of them. She hid her mouth behind her hand and gave Sirius a jerky nod of her head. “Alright.”

“You’re sure?” Sirius alertly checked in. His concern was evident on his face.

Hermione nodded once again. “Yes. I just… I didn’t expect this to happen so soon, that’s all.” She cleared her throat. “Go ahead.”

Sirius tapped the discoloured leaf with his index finger. “Prongs,” he cheerfully greeted his best friend. “This is my betrothed I was telling you about last night. Hermione Granger.” He gestured to the face in the mirror. “This is my best friend, James Potter.”

“Miss Granger,” the face in the mirror greeted her with a cocky smirk and a wave before quickly fixing his crooked glasses as they slipped down his nose. 

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, unable to find her voice.  _ “Potter,”  _ she settled on after a moment. She couldn’t help but take in all that she could see of the young man. He had dark, messy hair just like her former best friend, but his glasses were rectangular instead of round like Harry’s. James’ chin was less pointed than his son’s, and his nose was a bit longer too.

She exhaled shakily. Harry must’ve gotten more from his mother than just his eye colour.

“Are you certain we can trust her with our little secret, Padfoot?” James asked his friend.

“I do,” Sirius quickly responded. “She’s good, I swear.”

“I-I thought you said that you had no friends,” Hermione blurted out the first thing her scrambled mind could piece together. A statement that Sirius had said to her when they’d first met. “You said that you’d burnt that bridge entirely.” She peered at Sirius in question.

James’ laughter rang out from the small mirror. “The first thing that you need to know about your betrothed, Miss Granger–”

“Hermione,” she corrected quickly.

_ “Hermione,” _ James grinned up at her. “The first thing you need to know about Sirius is that he is a dramatic git. We just had a little fight, that’s all.” He raised a brow at Sirius. “He’s still my best mate even if he is a complete arse most of the time.”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin at the young man sitting next to her. “Dramatic, he says.” She thought of the first time she had met Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack in her third year and began to snicker. “I’ll have to agree with Potter.”

Sirius’ face split into a wide grin. “Ganging up on me already. I’m heartbroken, little lion.”

_ “Little lion?” _ James asked amusedly. “He’s already given you a nickname.” He sighed dramatically. “I do hope you know how to cast a silencing charm, Hermione, because your betrothed most certainly doesn’t.”

Hermione could feel her cheeks heat at the insinuation. “Your comment makes the assumption that I’ll be sorted into Gryffindor, and who says I will be?” She raised a brow in question. “I can assure you, I won’t be paying Sirius a visit in the middle of the night, I’m sorry to say.” She smirked at Sirius whose own cheeks were pink with embarrassment. “It would be too far of a walk for me if I were to be sorted into another house. In fact, given that the House of Black has officially confirmed this particular long-standing betrothal arrangement with my family, it makes more sense if I was sorted into Slytherin, would it not? And I’ve heard from Regulus that the Slytherin common room is all the way in the dungeons. A long, long way from Gryffindor Tower.”

“And you’re…” James blinked in shock and cleared his throat. “You’re  _ sure _ we can trust her?”

Sirius chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair. “I am.” He sighed tiredly. “Why did you call, James? Is something going on?”

“Yeah… mum and dad said that we’re supposed to be getting our Hogwarts letters either tomorrow or the next day.” James made a point of looking between Sirius and Hermione. “Would you be able to meet us in Diagon Alley next week some time?” 

“Us?”

“Me, Moony, and Wormtail.” James frowned and scratched his chin. “Actually, I’m not sure if Peter can make it, his grandma is really sick.”

“Again?”

“Does that happen a lot?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask.

James grimaced. “Sort of. She lives with Peter and his mother. She’s been sick off and on for the last year or so.”

“Oh,” Hermione frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She tucked that piece of information away for the time being.

“I should be able to,” Sirius said quietly after a moment. “I’d like to talk with Remus, if he’s willing to listen to me.” 

“He said he was open to it actually,” James reassured him. “I just came from his place and he mentioned that he got your letter, but he just didn’t have enough energy to reply.” He frowned as he narrowed his eyes at Hermione. “He’s sick too. A bad flu.”

“Of course,” Hermione nodded in understanding. It was really none of her business as far as James was aware. She cleared her throat. “Will your mother insist on coming to Diagon Alley with us?” she asked Sirius.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Then what if Regulus and I get our school stuff while you and your friends catch up?” Hermione suggested quietly. “We can meet up later in the day. Go for a late lunch at the pub?”

Sirius nodded slowly. “That might work. I do need to get some new robes, but you and Reggie should be able to just charge my books to the family account.”

“So we can plan for some time next week then?” James asked the two of them.

Sirius nodded once again. “Yeah. I’ll let you know what mother says over the next few days.”

“Great!” James grinned. “I gotta go now… mum is calling for me, but we’ll talk later, Padfoot. Alright?”

“Of course.”

“Bye Hermione,” James smirked at her.

“Goodbye James,” Hermione murmured quietly just as James disappeared from the small mirror.

~ | ~

_ “Someone’s coming,” the headmaster hissed to her as soon as they landed on the Astronomy Tower. “You must hide, Miss Granger.” _

_ Hermione took off towards a nearby alcove, still clutching her broom, and hid in the darkness as the sound of the footsteps running up the spiral staircase reached nearer and nearer. _

_ She spun around, wand at the ready, just as Dumbledore hit her with a non-verbal Body-Bind Curse. She huffed quietly as she tipped slightly against the wall. The back of her head hit the stone tower, preventing her from falling onto her back. _

_ “Who’re you speaking to?” a familiar voice broke the tense silence just as a shadowy figure reached the top of the tower. The perpetrator’s wand was pointed at the headmaster, waiting for him to make the first move. _

_ “Oh… just myself, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore sadly told Hermione’s childhood friend. “Wondering where I went wrong.” _

_ Hermione blinked and tried to control her breathing. She didn’t understand why Dumbledore hadn’t tried to disarm Harry. _

_ “Your actions got my parents killed. How about you start there,” Harry snidely responded to the headmaster. “Got Sirius locked up for a crime he didn’t commit. You. Did. Nothing.” _

_ “Harry,” Dumbledore pleaded as he leaned against a tall pillar, the effects of the potion in the cave were still obviously wreaking havoc on his body. “Whatever Lord Voldemort has told you is most likely a lie. He’s using you. You must realise that.” _

_ “Expelliarmus!” _

_ Hermione watched as Dumbledore’s wand arched high in the air before it was snatched effortlessly by Harry. _

_ Harry twirled the newly acquired wand once, twice, before tucking it in his cloak pocket. “You were the Chief Warlock,” he countered. “You oversaw all the trials. You knew Sirius never received one, yet you still locked him up.” _

_ “A mistake,” Dumbledore admitted. “A grave error in judgement on my part, yes. But, I truly believed him to be guilty of mass murder. I believed him to be Lord Voldemort’s spy in the Order.” _

_ “Yeah, I know. All because of his last name.” _

_ Hermione watched as Dumbledore peered down at the stone floor, unwilling – or perhaps unable – to argue. _

_ “You did nothing to help my parents either. Or Neville’s. Not really,” Harry continued. “You got their friends to become secret keepers.” He snorted, shaking his head. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. It should’ve been you.” _

_ “The fidelius charm is very difficult to–” _

_ “THEN YOU SHOULD’VE GOT FLITWICK TO PERFORM IT!” Harry roared at him. His voice breaking. “Your actions got me locked up in a cupboard under the stairs for ten years!” His wand hand was shaking with anger. “You knew every day what I had to deal with and you ignored it. All for your Greater Good. All so I’d view you as my saviour.” He shook his head as a cluster of footsteps began to rush up the stairs to join them. “You knew about the repeated burns. You knew how they withheld food from me. You were well-aware the Dursleys tried to beat my magic out of me. I’ve seen the Accidental Magic records at the Ministry, Headmaster. You knew everything.” _

_ “Harry, please…” _

_ Hermione heard a low chuckling as three more people joined Harry and Dumbledore on the platform. She strained her eyes to try to get a better look at the hooded figures. A fourth person came up the stairs behind the new arrivals and began a slow inspection around the Astronomy Tower. _

_ “That’s it, Potter,” a cool voice – Dolohov, Hermione believed – encouraged as he came to a stop beside Harry. “Just as I taught you,” he reminded him. “The same as what you did with Bellatrix.” _

_ Hermione held back a whimper as the first of her tears began to splash down her cheeks. There was no way for her or Dumbledore to get out of this predicament.  _

_ “You stole everything from me!” Harry yelled at the headmaster. “Everyone!” _

_ “Please… don’t… Harry.” _

_ The figure inspecting the Astronomy Tower came to a stop directly in front of Hermione.  _

_ She gasped sharply in fear. She had been found. _

_ The figure took a step closer and Professor Snape’s face was illuminated in the distant moonlight. He raised a finger to his mouth and stepped away from Hermione once again to join the rest of the group. _

_ “The headmaster appears to be alone,” Snape effortlessly informed the group of Death Eaters. _

_ “Wonderful,” an unknown male commented dryly. “Potter… this is the moment of truth. Do it. Now. We’ve got no time to dawdle around, reinforcements have undoubtedly arrived by now.” _

_ “Severus,” Dumbledore strained as he leaned heavily against the stone pillar. “Please…” _

_ “AVADA KEDAVRA!” Harry yelled out. The bright green light sped from his wand and hit the headmaster square in the chest. _

_ Hermione watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as Albus Dumbledore arched and fell over the edge of the Astronomy Tower. _

_ An unknown Death Eater laughed and cast the Dark Mark high in the sky. Letting the world know they had killed yet another. _

_ Hermione slid down the stone wall as the Death Eaters, including Harry, rushed back down the stairs. _

_ She screamed her best friend’s name as she was shaken by unseen hands. _

_ “Harry!”  _ Hermione cried out before she could comprehend the bright light of her bedroom.

“Calm down, it’s just me.” Hands brushed the hair off of her face. “It’s Sirius.”

Hermione gasped as she took in her surroundings. Orion, Walburga, and Regulus were huddled together by her bedroom door. Sirius was touching her face and tucking her hair behind her ears as he knelt in front of her by her bed.

Hermione took another deep breath.

“It was just a bad dream,” Sirius muttered to her. “It was just a nightmare.”

Hermione’s bottom lip wobbled. Her throat constricted. “No...” she forced out.  _ “Memory.” _ Her tears continued to splash down her cheeks. Her breathing was laboured.

Sirius sighed and muttered something underneath his breath. He sat down on Hermione’s bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Regulus… can you bring me some Calming Draught and a small bottle of Dreamless Sleep?”

Hermione pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying desperately to clear the images flashing through her mind. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she turned slightly into Sirius, allowing him to continue to comfort her. Her heart continued to race from her memory of the night on the Astronomy Tower. 

“Why are you so kind to me?” she gasped, wanting to forget about her dream. She wanted to talk about something else that had been bothering her for the last week since her arrival.

“Because… I’m just a kind person,” Sirius murmured jokingly to her. His chest rumbling against her cheek.

Hermione watched as Walburga murmured something to Orion before leaving the room. Lord Black sighed tiredly and sat down in the chair at Hermione’s little desk.

“No.” She shook her head. “You’re all so accepting. I don’t understand.” She sniffed, wiping at her cheeks. “I’m a time traveller. I’ve come with horrible news and you all’ve welcomed me without much question.” She swallowed. “It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“That time turner you had in your possession belongs to the House of Black, Miss Granger,” Orion told her quietly. “Time travel is not unheard of in this family.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione repeated.

Sirius tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “I grew up hearing a lot of stories about my family,” he began quietly as Regulus re-entered the bedroom carrying two vials. “Both Regulus and I did. Mostly about the cosmos. The stars and galaxies and the meanings behind their names.” He uncorked the vial of Calming Draught and helped Hermione swallow it down. “My name, for example, means ‘glowing’ in Latin, or ‘burning bright’ in Greek. When I was a little shit, before Hogwarts, I was told by many family members that my name is a name for a leader.” He chuckled dryly. “Of course, nowadays those same people tell me I’m an abomination to this family, but that’s neither here nor there.” He sighed. “‘Sirius’ is often associated with canines throughout history. In both magical and Muggle history, so I’ve been informed.”

“The Dog Star,” Hermione murmured as the effects of the Calming Draught began to take hold. She wondered where Sirius was going with his impromptu lesson.

“Yes, exactly.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Regulus means ‘little king’. A perfect name for him, I think. He fits it very well.” 

Regulus grinned sheepishly at the compliment. 

“Along with the stories about the galaxies and stars, Regulus and I also listened to stories of time travel.” 

Hermione tensed and quirked her head up to look at Sirius who was peering down at her. She must not have heard him correctly.

“Yep. Time travel,” he confirmed her unvoiced question. “Father mentioned that the time turner you had in your possession belongs to this family. And it does. I’ve seen it when we all used to visit our vineyard during the summer months when I was a small boy.”

“Stories of time travel have been passed down in this family for many centuries, Miss Granger,” Orion began explaining to Hermione. “Stories of wizards or witches travelling back in time a few hours to give warning of an impending tragedy.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “There are even a few stories that I remember that speak of time travellers who’ve travelled back  _ years _ in order to help the House of Black. I truly believe it’s how this family has survived for as long as it has.”

“Have you ever heard stories where the time traveller is from decades in the future?” Hermione asked him, curious.

Orion shook his head. “I have not. But, it’s been almost a century since the last instance of time travel has occurred, according to our records. I checked when I dropped off the time turner like Narcissa had asked. Perhaps we were due for something extraordinary.”

Hermione was lost for words at Orion’s statement.

“Did you want to talk about your nightmare?” Sirius asked her cautiously.

Hermione shook her head, blinking sleepily. “No.”

“You cannot be having these nightmares while you’re at Hogwarts,” Orion informed her. “It’s best if you speak with one of us about it at the very least.”

Hermione frowned, hesitating slightly before conceding to the request. “I was remembering the night Dumbledore was killed.”

“You were there?” Orion asked her keenly.

Nodding, Hermione scratched her cheek. “I hid in an alcove in the Astronomy Tower. Most of the Death Eaters didn’t realise I was there watching everything unfold.” She sniffed. “I watched my friend–”

“Harry,” Sirius supplied.

“Yes,” Hermione confirmed. “I watched Harry kill Dumbledore. Watched as the headmaster fell off of the tower.”

There was silence as the three men digested her words.

“You mentioned that  _ most _ of the Death Eaters didn’t know you were there,” Regulus thoughtfully prompted her after a moment.

Hermione swallowed and nodded. “There was one person who spotted me but they told their  _ colleagues _ that Dumbledore was alone.” She exhaled slowly. “That individual saved my life.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius murmured quietly to her. 

“For what?” Hermione didn’t understand what he was apologising for.

“For showing you all those pictures of my friends.” Sirius shook his head. “I shouldn’t have done that. It set you off. It’s why you had your nightmare tonight.”

“Miss Granger will be around your friends in a little over a month,” Orion informed his eldest son. “She needs to work out a way to get used to it.”

Hermione nodded curtly. “I will.” She cleared her throat. “I apologise for waking everyone up. It won’t happen again.”

“Get some rest, Miss Granger,” Orion told her as he rose from his seat, straightening out his sleep robe as he did so. “We can discuss this later.” He made to leave the room with Regulus before stopping abruptly and turning to stare pointedly at Sirius, who was still sitting on Hermione’s bed. “Come Sirius.”

“I’d like to stay here actually.” Sirius tightened his hold on Hermione’s shoulder.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing’s going to happen, father.” Hermione could practically feel Sirius rolling his eyes. “I just thought it’d be best if I stayed with Hermione for the rest of the night. She’s been through a lot, you know.”

Hermione held her breath as she watched Orion frown at the two of them. Regulus was standing behind his father and was peering at Sirius with an amused smirk on his face.

“Very well,” Orion conceded after a moment, clearly not wanting to argue. “Goodnight, Miss Granger.”

“Goodnight, Lord Black,” she murmured in response.

Orion left the room, closing her bedroom door as he did.

“That actually worked,” Sirius murmured under his breath, snickering quietly. He held up the small bottle of Dreamless Sleep. “I’m going to recommend that you take this for tonight, little lion. I know what it feels like to have nightmares.”

Hermione shook her head as she pulled away from him slightly. “That stuff’s highly addictive.” She untangled her feet from the blankets on her bed and tugged them over her legs before settling back against Sirius’s shoulder as they both sat propped up against the bedhead.

“When’s the last time you’ve had Dreamless Sleep?” Sirius asked her as he uncorked the vial.

Shrugging, Hermione sighed. “I can’t remember.”

“Then you’ll be fine.” He held the vial closer to her lips. “Take only half if you’re unsure. It’s still better than nothing.”

Hermione took the vial from Sirius and had a sip of the potion before handing the half-empty vial back.

“I’m sorry for springing James on you,” Sirius murmured quietly to her as her eyelids drooped heavily.

Hermione watched groggily as he downed the rest of the potion. “I know you are,” she mumbled as her eyes drifted shut.

She could’ve sworn she felt Sirius kiss her head softly as she quickly drifted off into a deep slumber.

  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Hermione hid a yawn behind her hand as she settled into her seat at the kitchen table, still feeling the effects of the Dreamless Sleep potion that she’d had the night before.

Both her and Sirius had been rudely awoken by Kreacher only minutes earlier, screeching about how it was inappropriate for the heir to the House of Black to be sharing a bed with Hermione. 

“My apologies for sleeping in,” she said to the waiting Walburga, Orion and Regulus.

“No apology is needed, Miss Granger,” Orion reassured her. “The effects of Dreamless Sleep can be difficult to overcome.”

“Where’s Sirius?” Regulus asked her with a knowing smirk before taking a sip of his juice.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “I bumped into him in the hallway and he said he’d get me some Wiggenweld Potion. I’m sure he’ll join us shortly.” She grabbed a slice of toast and the jar of marmalade.

Walburga hummed quietly as she flipped over a page of the _Daily Prophet._ “If you are going to lie, Miss Granger, be sure to keep it vague.” The witch peered at Hermione over the wizarding newspaper. “Kreacher and Orion have already informed me where Sirius spent the night. An ‘I haven’t seen him yet this morning, Regulus’ would’ve been better.”

Hermione swallowed. “Of course, Lady Black. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“In order to get used to fibbing, I highly suggest we work through your backstory until it becomes natural enough that you don’t even have to think about it.” Walburga suggested to her as she folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Where are your parents? Why didn’t you come to Hogwarts when you were eleven like everyone else? Why the House of Black?” The witch raised a brow at Hermione. “What is the story you will be selling?”

Hermione frowned, thinking of the story she’d been constructing. “My parents passed away recently. While going through their belongings, I came across a betrothal arrangement between myself and Sirius Black. Having nothing else, I got into contact with the House of Black who’ve been kind enough to take me in.” She blinked at Sirius as he joined them in the kitchen, handing her a small vial of Wiggenweld Potion before grabbing himself some breakfast. “My parents hired British tutors to educate me as we travelled around Europe, having preferred the magical education taught at Hogwarts.”

“What did your parents die from?” Orion asked her as he had a sip of tea.

“I-I don’t know,” Hermione shook her head. She needed to brush up on her magical ailments.

“What happened to your real parents?” Sirius asked her.

“I got my mentor to obliviate them just before the start of my sixth year,” Hermione informed the table. “They moved to Australia to restart their dental practise, no longer knowing that they had a daughter.”

“Perhaps we can go with a severe case of Cerebrumous,” Walburga suggested. “It’s a disease that causes memory loss and confusion. A particularly virulent strain can lead to death.”

“What about treatment?” Hermione asked her.

Walburga shook her head. “There isn’t anything that I’m aware of. It’s a rare disease of the mind, Miss Granger. But, not rare enough to draw suspicion.”

Hermione nodded as she downed the Wiggenweld Potion. “Both my parents died from Cerebrumous, after months of trying all sorts of experimental treatment.”

“Where did your mother and father travel?” Regulus asked her.

“All over,” Hermione told him quietly. “We spent some time in France. As well as Bulgaria and Switzerland.”

_“Oh…_ are you fluent in anything other than English?” Orion queried.

Hermione shook her head. “I’m not. I was able to pick up a few phrases here and there, but we mostly kept to ourselves.” She frowned. “I know a little bit of Bulgarian and French, but I am in no way fluent unfortunately.”

“Why Bulgarian?” Walburga questioned her.

“I met a Bulgarian boy a few years ago,” Hermione murmured quietly. “He taught me some phrases.”

“Why is it that no one has met you before? Are your parents even pure-blood?” Sirius asked her after having a bite of his toast.

Hermione raised a brow at him. “Are you suggesting that the House of Black would have a betrothal arrangement with a half-blood family?” She munched on her own slice of toast.

“But, why haven’t we ever met you before?” Regulus asked her.

“My parents preferred to keep to themselves.” Hermione paused. “I share that preference.”

“What are your plans after graduation?” Orion asked her.

Hermione hummed quietly, uncertain. “I would like to do some good in the world.” She grimaced at her response.

Orion chuckled, shaking his head. “Too vague.”

Nodding, Hermione thought of another response. “I would like to… step into my role as Sirius’ betrothed.” Again she grimaced.

“Interesting. Are the two of you getting married as soon as you finish Hogwarts?” Walburga asked her with a smirk. Hermione had walked right into something the family was attempting to ignore, at least until she completed her mission.

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know how to answer the question,” she admitted quietly.

“What did you wish to do for a career in your time?” Walburga asked her curiously.

“My plan was to fight for the rights of magical beings and creatures, as well as half-bloods and Muggle-born witches and wizards.” Hermione winced. “But… I don’t think that’ll work this time around considering the family I am supposedly betrothed with.”

Sirius snorted as he shook his head in agreement.

Walburga frowned at Hermione. “Perhaps that is something we can work with.”

Sirius coughed, choking on his pumpkin juice. “I’m sorry, _what?”_

Walburga waved him off, focusing on Hermione. “You can say that you wish to rewrite the laws pertaining to half-breeds and other beasts.”

“Keep it vague,” Regulus reminded her. “But, not too vague.”

“Everyone will assume that you want to create stricter laws in regards to the creatures and beings you mentioned,” Orion told her quietly.

“I don’t want people to think that of me. It’s cruel and wrong,” Hermione told the table. She hummed quietly, thinking of something else. “I would like to work at the Ministry of Magic. I find the Department of Mysteries most intriguing.” She sipped her pumpkin juice. “Will that work?”

“It will, Miss Granger.” Orion frowned as a tapping on the window interrupted the early morning lesson. “Kreacher, if you could get the post.”

Hermione returned to her breakfast while the Black family house elf did as he was told.

“Letters from Hogwarts,” Kreacher solemnly announced as he began handing the mail out to the proper recipients.

“Thanks Kreacher,” Hermione murmured to the elf as he handed her her letter. She peered around the table at the Black family, uncertain of their traditions regarding Hogwarts letters.

“All at the same time?” Sirius asked his parents once he received his own letter from Kreacher.

“Of course,” Walburga said.

“Three, two,” Sirius’ excited eyes met Hermione’s. “One.”

The three tore open their envelopes and tugged out their respective Hogwarts letters to read.

Hermione couldn’t help but grin as she began to read through her letter welcoming her to Hogwarts.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment for your sixth year._ _Term begins on 1 September._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

She took a look at the lengthy second piece of parchment containing the list of supplies and textbooks she would need for the upcoming school year.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_All students will require:_

  * _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_


  * _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_


  * _One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_



_SET BOOKS_

_Sixth year students should have copies of the following:_

  * _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk_


  * _Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage (if studying N.E.W.T. level Potions)_


  * _Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts by Galatea Merrythought (if studying N.E.W.T. level Defence Against the Dark Arts)_


  * _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch (if studying N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration)_


  * _Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Blishen (if studying N.E.W.T. level of Ancient Runes)_


  * _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World by Herbert Beery (if studying N.E.W.T. level Herbology)_


  * _Numerology and Grammatica by L. Wakefield & M. Carneiro (if studying N.E.W.T. level Arithmancy)_


  * _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander (if studying N.E.W.T. level Care of Magical Creatures)_


  * _Advanced Astronomy by Aurora Sinistra (if studying N.E.W.T. level Astronomy)_


  * _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot (if studying N.E.W.T. level History of Magic)_



_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

  * _1 wand_


  * _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_


  * _1 set glass crystal phials_


  * _1 set brass scales_


  * _1 telescope_


  * _1 trunk_


  * _Dress robes (special occasion before the Christmas holiday)_



“We’ll need dress robes,” Sirius muttered under his breath as he looked up from his letter and peered at his mother and father. “I assume there will be another dance of some sort.”

“Regulus,” Walburga ignored Sirius’ comment and watched her youngest son with concern. “Is everything alright?”

Hermione scrunched up her nose as she tried – and failed – to hide her grin when the youngest Black looked at her in surprise.

“Did you know?” he asked her.

Hermione shrugged. “I may have read about the past prefects when I was made prefect in my fifth year,” she admitted quietly before snickering.

Regulus blinked in obvious shock before reaching back into the envelope and taking out a small green and silver prefect badge.

“Congratulations, Regulus,” Hermione murmured to him.

A small smile ghosted his face as he peered at the badge.

“A _prefect,”_ Sirius shook his head amusedly. “Congrats Reggie.”

“Yes,” Orion spoke proudly. “Congratulations are very much in order.”

“While being made prefect is what is _expected_ in this family, I suggest a gift for you for being my _only_ son to meet these expectations.” Walburga looked down her nose at her youngest son. “What would you like, Regulus?”

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed tiredly as he shook his head at his mother’s comment.

Regulus cleared his throat. “Would I be able to get my own owl?” His eyes darted back and forth between his parents.

“We have two owls of our own,” Walburga said to him. “Are they not enough?”

“They are,” Regulus reassured his mother. “I just… I think they’re regal creatures. I was wanting to look after my own owl, mother. That’s all.”

Hermione looked between mother and son, waiting for Lady Black’s approval.

“I give you permission to purchase an owl for yourself,” Lady Black told her son. “But, if the bird bothers the family owls it will have to stay in your room with you.”

Regulus nodded curtly. “Of course, mother.” He paused. “Thank you.”

“What’s this about dress robes?” Orion asked after a moment of silence.

“Our letters mention that we need to have dress robes for a special occasion before the Christmas holidays,” Sirius informed his father.

“Ah,” Walburga nodded her head. “At the last Christmas gathering at Nott Manor, there was a discussion of a Celestial Ball possibly taking place at Hogwarts this year. The headmaster must’ve decided to proceed with the event.” She turned slightly to look curiously at Hermione. “Do you know how to dance, Miss Granger?”

Hermione frowned. “A bit, yes. I had a Yule Ball in my fourth year. But, at that time I practised in my dormitory to prepare for the different wizarding dances.”

“We’ll find somewhere at Hogwarts to practise,” Sirius reassured her. “It won’t be too difficult if I’m leading you.”

Hermione nodded.

“You’ll also have to wear something appropriate for a pure-blood witch,” Orion told her.

“Miss Granger and I will stop by Twilfitt and Tattings later in the summer,” Walburga told everyone sitting at the table. “Many half-blood and Mud–” she stopped and cleared her throat, _“Muggle-born_ witches like to wear gowns that are similar to what Muggles wear. That won’t be acceptable.” She looked pointedly at Hermione. “We will find something appropriate before the start of your term.”

Hermione swallowed, her throat was tight with uneasy anticipation. “Thank you, Lady Black.”

~ | ~

“I don’t feel comfortable signing this arrangement,” Hermione stated firmly to Lord and Lady Black as they all settled in the study of Grimmauld Place.

She watched as Orion hid a smirk behind his hand and scratched his chin. Walburga raised a well-manicured brow at her in question.

“What is the issue, child?” the witch asked as she clasped her hands together on the ancient desk separating her and Hermione.

Hermione frowned, choosing her words carefully. “There are a fair number of issues, as a matter of fact.” She pulled out the scroll in question and unrolled it. “Firstly, this arrangement, for the most part, doesn’t appear to be about the supposed betrothal between myself and your eldest son, Sirius. In fact, if I had to wager, I’d say it had more to do with my position in relation to the entire House of Black. This fact makes me question your intentions given that this isn’t something that we’ve had an in depth discussion about.”

“Are you suggesting that the House of Black is attempting to pull the wool over your eyes, Miss Granger?”

Hermione shook her head. “Not at all, Lady Black. I am merely suggesting that the House of Black might _unintentionally_ be taking advantage of the fact that I am a Muggle-born witch and have no experience with pure-blood customs.”

“We must protect this family, Miss Granger,” Orion quietly informed her. “That includes having you sign an agreement with the Head of House, that is Walburga and myself.”

“And I understand that. I do,” Hermione told him. “But, I can hardly agree to sign something after being told the betrothal between myself and Sirius was merely for appearances sake.” She waved the scroll of parchment around. “This isn’t for show. This is real.” She looked between Orion and Walburga. “If I accidentally step out of line, or say something deemed unacceptable according to this arrangement, what will happen to me?”

There was silence. Walburga and Orion refused to answer her question.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. She needed to give Lord and Lady Black something in order for them to understand where she was coming from. 

“In my fifth year, I got a group of students participating in a secret Defence group to write their names on a sign-up sheet after I told them that they must not discuss our group with anyone who was not a member,” Hermione told the two of them. “The _one_ student who told our secret to the temporary Headmistress I mentioned the other day, ended up with spots on her forehead that spelled out ‘sneak’.” She looked at Walburga. “The witch in question had to manipulate her fringe to hide the spots from everyone, although every single person at Hogwarts knew they were there. _Permanently.”_ She cleared her throat. “Will I be forced to adapt the same way Miss Edgecombe had to? Or does the House of Black employ far more sinister forms of punishment for spilling its secrets?”

Walburga’s lips twitched ever-so-slightly, as if she were amused at Hermione’s actions. “If you _spill_ any House of Black secrets to an individual not a part of this immediate family you will be ostracised from Wizarding Britain, _if_ Orion and myself deem it an appropriate course of action.”

“Do you plan to share our secrets, Miss Granger?” Orion asked her.

Hermione shook her head. “Of course not. As I’ve said before, I don’t know much about the House of Black except for what I’ve heard from individuals who do not belong to this family. I know of rumours, but nothing more than that.”

“The arrangement in your hand is only to protect the House of Black,” Orion tried reassuring her. “Think of it as an agreement between yourself and a place of business. You wouldn’t share trade secrets with another business, would you?”

Hermione shook her head. “I don’t believe so, no.” She paused. “Certainly not intentionally in any case.”

“When an individual marries into a traditional pure-blood family, the majority of the arrangement is in regards to their standing with the entire House,” Walburga told her. “While technically you are supposed to be marrying Sirius, you are more so marrying _into_ this family as a whole.” She frowned. “If you had a family of your own, Sirius would have to sign a similar arrangement.”

“So… you’re saying that Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had to do the same thing?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask. It was the only marriage that she could think of off the top of her head that was undoubtedly traditionally pure-blood.

Walburga nodded enthusiastically. “Most certainly. There are many things about the House of Malfoy that Narcissa doesn’t or cannot speak about, while there is far more that Lucius doesn’t know about the House of Black.”

“Time travel for one,” Orion informed Hermione. “I can assure you without any doubt that Narcissa would not have shared this family’s history of the use of time turners with her husband.”

Hermione thought of the Lucius Malfoy she knew in her time. “Because he would most likely want to manipulate time to give himself an advantage.”

“He is an exceptionally ambitious man,” Walburga agreed.

“What else do you have an issue with?” Orion asked her after a moment.

Hermione peered down at the scroll in her hand. “There’s a section which mentions that I must refrain from associating directly with certain magical beasts and those not of pure-blood.” She met Walburga’s gaze dead on. “I want that scratched off entirely. No exceptions.”

“It is not appropriate for a member of the House of Black–”

“I am _not_ a member of the House of Black,” Hermione cut Walburga off. “I am a _Granger,_ and members of _my_ family prefer to associate with all sorts, regardless of their blood status or breed.”

“Consider it removed, Miss Granger,” Orion reassured her kindly. “That was overstepping on our part.”

“Thank you, Lord Black.” Hermione cleared her throat. “There is also mention of clothing worn by myself.” Her eyes darted between Walburga and Orion questioningly.

“It’s just so you don’t wear Muggle clothing. Nothing more.” Walburga frowned. “It is unacceptable for a witch marrying into the House of Black to wear clothing so… hideous and of poor quality.”

“And it is only temporary,” Orion reassured her once again. “After the mission is complete, you are more than welcome to wear whatever you wish.”

“You want to make certain that I am looking the part.” Hermione nodded in understanding. “I concur with this rule.”

She found the next section she wanted clarification on and read it out loud for the room to hear. “‘The witch in question, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, must act as if she is in a committed courtship with the heir of the House of Black, Sirius Orion Black’.” She looked up from the roll of parchment. “What exactly do you mean by that statement?”

“That is left for you to decide,” Orion told her with an _almost_ imperceptible smile on his face. “You are not permitted to carry out any sort of _relations_ with a wizard from another House. How you and Sirius interpret that rule is up to the two of you.”

It seemed to Hermione as if Orion was giving his permission for her and his son to court, if it was something they chose to do. She frowned as she took in Walburga’s look of disgust. A rule, no doubt, that Lady Black didn’t agree with.

It was an interesting turn of events and something to be considered later on. Hermione tucked away the information and focused on the arrangement clutched tightly in her hands. “There is also mention of participation in certain pure-blood traditions. What does this mean?”

“The gathering over Christmas that was mentioned earlier is an example,” Walburga informed her.

“If another family decides to hold a ball to celebrate a betrothal arrangement of their own and they invite you, you and Sirius are to take part.” Orion frowned as he rubbed his chin in thought. “It is so you keep up appearances. Our reputation is on the line if you do not participate in these events.”

“Even if I never had a ball to celebrate my supposed betrothal arrangement with the House of Black?”

Walburga nodded. “Yes. Officially a ball was not held out of respect for the recent loss of your mother and father. However, our Christmas gathering will act as an impromptu ball of sorts, minus the extravagance. In this case, the _dancing_ will be the numerous discussions of issues and politics over dinner. Do try to _not_ step on anyone’s toes.”

“Many families will be very interested in meeting you, Miss Granger,” Orion informed her.

“No pressure or anything,” Hermione murmured mostly to herself.

“I am certain you’ll perform admirably.”

~ | ~

Hermione frowned as she placed the last of hers and Sirius’ textbooks into the basket slung on her arm.

She had spent the better part of the day shopping for hers and Sirius’ back-to-school items with Regulus after Sirius had left them to spend some much-needed time with his friends at the Leaky Cauldron. 

As soon as they’d stepped into Flourish and Blotts, however, Regulus had told her to grab the textbooks she and Sirius needed before quickly abandoning her at the front of the shop. She knew he was still somewhere in the bookstore, but had yet to run into him. 

Sighing as she looked down at the full basket, Hermione knew she had one more book that she needed to purchase if she were to prevent herself from having recurring nightmares while at Hogwarts.

She began the trek up the stairs and towards the _Occlumency & Legilimency _section of the bookstore, in search of a book that she could use to teach herself how to shield her mind.

Coming to a stop in front of the section that housed numerous books on the subject, Hermione stared – slightly overwhelmed – at the large selection before her. She didn’t even know where to start.

She began selecting random Occlumency books off the shelf and giving them a quick glance, searching for something that caught her interest.

“I just don’t understand why you’re _rejecting_ me!” a male voice whispered frantically from somewhere nearby.

Hermione frowned as she cautiously placed _Protection Charm Your Mind_ back on the shelf, careful to not make a sound. The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

“I’ve told you repeatedly, my family’s reputation is everything to me. I’m not interested in dilly-dallying with someone who will undoubtedly damage that reputation. To be quite blunt, you’re not worth the risk.”

Hermione blinked in shock. She most definitely knew the identity of the second individual. It was Regulus.

“But… _I love you,”_ the first voice sobbed, a bit louder this time. “I thought you loved me too!”

“Get the _fuck_ away from me,” Regulus growled. “Don’t ever speak to me again.”

Hermione stood in stiff shock as a teenaged Barty Crouch Jr. quickly made his way past her, wiping the tears from his cheeks. She held her breath as Regulus stepped into the aisle after him and made his way closer to her, coming to a stop merely inches away.

“I-I’m just looking for a book to help with my nightmares,” she shakily told the youngest Black as she turned around to face him directly. She peered up at him and swallowed tightly, taking in the ice cold expression on his face.

Regulus’ jaw was clenched tightly as he reached around Hermione to grab a book behind her on the shelf. He handed her a new copy of _Guide to Advanced Occlumency_ and cleared his throat. “I would start here, Miss Granger. There’s even a chapter on the prevention of night terrors. I highly recommend that you read through it carefully.”

Hermione clutched the book in her hand. “But… it’s _advanced_ Occlumency. I’ve never–”

“You’re a clever witch,” Regulus interrupted her. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He peered down at the basket hooked on her arm. “Have you found everything?”

Hermione nodded as she placed the Occlumency book in her basket with the others. “I have, yes.”

Regulus gave her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I still need to find my textbooks. Why don’t you head to the till, I’ll meet you there shortly.”

She did as she was told and quickly made her way back down the stairs. Regulus followed closely behind before splitting off to grab his fifth year textbooks. 

Hermione came to a stop behind a mother and her young child clutching a bundle of second-hand first year textbooks. The two were dressed in Muggle attire.

She gave the boy a small smile. “I think Charms is one of my favourite subjects,” she told him quietly, gesturing to his second-hand copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One,_ that was on the top of his bundle of books.

The little boy grinned up at her. “Really?”

Hermione nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve heard that Professor Flitwick is one of the best instructors at Hogwarts.” She grinned at the mother as she turned around to take in the person speaking to her son. “If I remember my lessons correctly, you’ll even get to float feathers in the air during your first lesson.”

“Float feathers in the air,” the mother said to her son in excitement. “You’ll have to tell me all about it at Christmas, Spencer.”

“I’ll _owl_ you.” Spencer grinned up at his mother.

“We can’t afford a pet owl, dear.” His mother shook her head sadly.

“I believe Hogwarts has its own owls that students can use to write home to their families,” Hermione told them kindly. She peered at Regulus who had slipped into the queue beside her clutching his own books. “That’s correct, right?”

Regulus nodded. “Yes, it is. Not everyone has a familiar.” He paused. “Most don’t actually.”

_“Oh,”_ the mother responded, relieved. “Thank you for that information.” She smiled at Hermione and Regulus before steering her son with her towards the next available till.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” Hermione asked Regulus, needing to break their sudden uncomfortable silence.

He raised a brow at her. “Obviously.”

Hermione nodded but otherwise remained silent. 

Regulus grabbed her upper arm as soon as the next till was free and pulled her towards the waiting shop worker to make their purchases.

“All of this is on the Black account,” Regulus told the wizard.

“Of course, sir.” The worker moved quickly as he rang up their purchases.

Hermione began setting the textbooks from her basket onto the counter. 

“I’m terribly sorry, dear, but the Occlumency book you’ve selected requires parental approval for purchase by anyone underage.” The wizard peered at Hermione through his thick spectacles.

_“What?”_ Hermione couldn’t hide her confusion.

“It’s very advanced content and most experts agree that underage witches and wizards haven’t yet a mature enough mind.” The man shrugged and gestured to her stack of sixth year textbooks.

“My mother has already given Miss Granger approval,” Regulus haughtily stated to the man, challenging him.

The wizard looked between Hermione and Regulus before giving a curt nod of his head. “Of course, Mr. Black. My apologies for the misunderstanding on my part.” 

Hermione frowned at the interaction, but remained silent as she watched the books get carefully placed into three separate paper bags.

“Thank you,” Regulus said coolly to the wizard as he grabbed two of the bags, leaving the last for Hermione to carry herself, and left Flourish and Blotts.

Hermione scrambled to keep up as they wove through the thick crowds of back-to-school shoppers. 

Sighing in relief once they reached an alley tucked away from the major shops, Hermione came to a stop next to Regulus just as Kreacher appeared with a soft pop.

“Can you take our textbooks back to Grimmauld Place, Kreacher?” Regulus asked the Black family house elf kindly as he bent over slightly to speak with the small creature.

“Yes, Master Regulus.” Kreacher grabbed the two bags that Regulus handed him and reached out to take Hermione’s bag as well.

He went off with a soft pop, leaving the two alone in the secluded alley.

“Where do you want to go now?” Hermione asked the youngest Black who slowly straightened up, still keeping his back towards her. “It’s getting quite busy out there.”

Before she could blink, Hermione found herself pushed hard against the wall. Regulus had one arm firmly holding her in place while he jabbed his wand into her neck.

Hermione gasped, winded by the action. “Regulus–”

“Shut it,” Regulus cut her off. “If you say anything to my parents about what you think you may have heard–”

“I won’t,” Hermione rushed out. “I swear. They won’t hear a word from me.”

“–I’ll kill you.” Regulus’ bottom lip quivered. His eyes were wild, terrified.

Hermione shook her head, ignoring the wand poking into her carotid artery. “I won’t say _anything,”_ she tried to reassure him. “It’s alright, Regulus. It’s normal. Natural.”

_“No,”_ he painfully sobbed. “It’s… _wrong.”_

Hermione gently pushed his wand away from her neck. “It isn’t wrong. It isn’t, I swear.” She peered at him with concern. “Two of my good friends are gay. They’re homosexual. And they are two of the best people I know.”

“Muggles?”

_“Wizards,”_ Hermione corrected.

Regulus made an inarticulate noise and hid his face behind his hands before stepping away from Hermione.

Hermione pushed herself off the wall, reached out and pulled Regulus’ hands away from his face. “It’s alright.” She peered up into his pale grey eyes. “It’s going to be okay.” She pulled him in for a hug before she could talk herself out of it. Regulus tensed at the action before wrapping his strong arms around her frame. 

“It’s not my place to say anything,” Hermione murmured quietly to him. “It’s something that only you can inform people about, if that’s what you decide.” She heard Regulus sniffle. “I won’t even tell Sirius, although I’m certain he’d be supportive.”

“I just… I don’t even know what I feel,” Regulus roughly muttered. “I can’t tell anyone. My parents would kill me.”

“Then fuck your parents,” Hermione stated bluntly. “They don’t deserve to know.”

She pulled away from Regulus and gave him what she hoped was a comforting smile. “Let’s meet up with Sirius at the Leaky Cauldron and grab some lunch. He’s spent enough time with his friends.”

She looped her hand around Regulus’ elbow, leading the way out of the alley and towards the wizarding pub.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

“Just a moment,” Regulus muttered as they stepped into the rear courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron. He moved off to the side to allow an older wizard to walk past him.

Hermione frowned as Regulus made quick work of wiping away any evidence of his breakdown only moments earlier. “Are you certain you’re alright?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Regulus nodded curtly and cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said as he brushed the sleeve of his wizarding robes over his cheeks one last time. He took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before exhaling completely. 

His expression was once again passive, _almost_ bored-looking. He focused on Hermione and raised a brow at her in question. “Are _you_ ready to have lunch with the blood-traitors?”

Smirking, Hermione tucked her hand in Regulus’ offered arm and the pair of them stepped through the rear entrance of the pub, letting the noise and smells of the interior wash over them. “Of course I am,” she assured Regulus quietly. “I’ve been prepared for weeks.” 

She wasn’t certain she believed the words she spoke. Seeing her mentor once again, after that terrifying night only a few weeks earlier, had her feeling anxious and emotional.

They quickly spotted Sirius sitting at a table towards the far end of the pub with his back to them and facing two young men.

Hermione hesitated, pulling on Regulus’ arm as soon as she spotted a young Remus Lupin sitting directly across the table from Sirius looking in her direction. Their other companion, James Potter, pointed and waved at Hermione once he noticed her.

Regulus, feeling her hesitation, slowed right down and muttered quietly in her ear. “Deep, slow breaths, Miss Granger.” He patted the hand on his elbow as if to offer her comfort. “You’re here to change things, remember?”

Hermione took a cautious peek up at Regulus, giving him a shaky nod of her head and taking a deep breath just as they reached the table. 

Sirius twisted around on the bench seat and slowly stood up to greet Hermione and Regulus.

“I hope we haven’t interrupted anything,” Hermione muttered under her breath as Sirius brushed his lips against her cheek in greeting. 

“Not at all,” Sirius informed her as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Remus, James… you both know Reggie.” He gestured to his younger brother who took a seat at the table after hanging up his cloak on the nearby coat stand. “This here is my betrothed, who I was telling you guys about – Hermione Granger, of the House of Granger.”

Hermione turned her attention back to the two young men sitting at the table and gave them both what she hoped was a pleasant smile. “Hello.”

“Miss Granger,” James greeted her first with a wide grin. He ruffled his hair before reaching out to shake her hand. “James Potter, of the House of Potter.” He paused. “If you want to get all technical, I suppose I _should_ say that I’m from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. But, it’s a bit wordy if you ask me. You can just call me James.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” Hermione returned his greeting. She focused her attention on Remus who was watching her with a keen interest.

“Remus Lupin,” the young man said as he too shook Hermione’s hand. His nostrils flared slightly, taking in her scent. Confusion, then alarm, flashed on his face before he seemed to rapidly tuck the emotions away.

Hermione hummed quietly. She had wondered if Remus would be able to pick up Greyback’s marking on her this close to the full moon. She angled her head to the side ever-so-slightly, exposing her neck and subtly informing Remus that she considered him the alpha wolf. “Remus… it’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

Remus’ eyes flashed amber before returning to their natural green colour. He cleared his throat. “And you, Miss Granger.”

“May I take your cloak?” Sirius asked Hermione after a moment or two. At her confirming nod, he undid the silver clasp, removed it from her shoulders and hung up Hermione’s periwinkle blue cloak on top of Regulus’ black one.

Helping Hermione into her seat, Sirius’ hand brushed gently on her back as he sat down next to her on the long bench. “Have you both finished shopping already?”

Hermione shook her head as Regulus leaned forward to look around her and speak to his brother. “Almost. We’ve still got to go to the Apothecary and Hermione still needs to get a trunk for all her supplies. Wiseacre’s had a queue out the door when we stopped there earlier.”

“I’d like to get a new quill set as well,” Hermione told the table. The self-inking quill that she’d purchased from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes prior to her sixth year would look too out of place in this time. Fred and George had been the first to invent such a thing in the Wizarding World as far as she knew. “I noticed a shop called Scribbulus Writing Implements when Regulus and I stepped into the bookstore.”

“Amanuensis Quills has a better selection if you’re looking for something in particular,” Regulus informed her. “I’d like to get a new quill myself, as a matter of fact.”

_“Oh?”_ She hadn’t heard the name before. It must’ve been a shop that had shut down prior to her time at Hogwarts.

“By ‘better selection’ he means more expensive,” Sirius told her with amusement.

“Better quality, too,” Regulus argued just as Tom, the landlord, made his way towards their table.

“Can we all get refills on our butterbeer, Tom?” Sirius asked him kindly. “Plus two more for Hermione and Regulus here. Some lunch for all of us as well. The fish and chips smells amazing.”

“Of course, Mr. Black.” Tom waved his wand and the empty mugs of butterbeer followed him back to the bar.

“Hey guys,” a familiar voice sounded from nearby. “Sorry I’m late and all that.”

Hermione tensed and grabbed Sirius’ hand tightly as a round, blond boy came to a stop behind James and Remus.

_“Pete!”_ James leaped up and slapped his friend hard on the back in greeting. “Glad you could make it!”

Hermione clenched her jaw. Her right hand twitched, wanting to grab her wand that was clipped on her left forearm in her hidden holster and put Pettigrew out of his misery before he betrayed every single one of his friends. “What’re _you_ doing here?” she growled out instead.

Sirius peered at her with alarm. “This is Pete,” he spoke to Hermione slowly and removed his hand from her tight grasp. “Peter Pettigrew, a friend of ours.” He paused, frowning. “A friend of _mine.”_

Hermione took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm her nerves. “I thought… I thought you said he was busy.” She looked up at Peter, whose beady little eyes were darting rapidly between her and Sirius, before turning her attention back to her betrothed. “You told me that his grandmother was ill.”

“She is,” Sirius confirmed, sharing a look with James before frowning at the table.

“My mother insisted that I spend time with my friends,” Peter said to Hermione as he found a spot on the bench next to Remus. 

Hermione swallowed her anger. She exhaled slowly and gave Pettigrew a curt nod of her head. “My sincerest apologies for being rude.” She quickly thought up an excuse for her reaction. “I don’t do well with surprises. I’ve got… _anxiety.”_ She grimaced at her lie. Walburga was right, she really needed to work on her fibbing if her story was to be believed.

Narcissa, Andromeda and Bill had sent her back two decades into the past in order to change everything, _including_ Pettigrew’s betrayal. She needed to remember that.

“It’s fine,” Peter waved off her apology. “As Sirius said, I’m Peter Pettigrew, from the House of Pettigrew.” He gave Hermione a cautious smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He reached out a hand for Hermione to shake.

Clearing her throat, Hermione slipped her hand into Peter’s clammy grasp. “Hermione Granger. Sirius is my betrothed.” She quirked her head slightly to peer at the young man sitting next to her, who was watching her closely. “Him and I met for the first time a few weeks ago.”

_“Betrothed?”_ Peter blurted out. Shock shined in his eyes.

“Miss Granger got into contact with mother and father after the deaths of her parents,” Regulus drawled arrogantly while peering at his fingernails, apparently already bored of the conversation. “Whilst searching through their belongings, she found a written arrangement between herself and the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And now here we are…” he gestured vaguely around the table, “having lunch with a bunch of blood-traitors and half-bloods.”

“What’s wrong with half-bloods?” Hermione queried, wondering if Regulus was just attempting to distract the Gryffindors at the table from her obvious faux pas.

The Slytherin raised a brow and smirked at her. “You’ve signed your betrothal arrangement, Miss Granger… you tell me.”

Hermione couldn’t help the sly grin from spreading on her face. _“Oh?_ You mean that part of the arrangement that states that _I,_ Miss Hermione Jean Granger, am allowed to associate with whomever I choose regardless of their blood status or breed?”

Regulus’ mouth comically popped open in shock.

“I’m a Granger, _not_ a Black. A fact that I apparently have to remind not only your parents of, but you as well.” Hermione gave the youngest Black a warm smile. “I’m not breaking _any_ rule of my betrothal, Regulus.”

“You’re lying.” Regulus narrowed his eyes at her.

“She’s not,” Sirius interrupted. Both amusement and pride were shining in his eyes as he peered at Hermione. “I signed the arrangement myself last night and saw it with my own two eyes, Regulus. My little lion is a snake in disguise.”

James and Peter chortled loudly. Remus hid a grin behind his hand.

“Your food and drinks,” Tom interrupted the ongoing conversation as he set plates of fish and chips down in front of all six of them along with mugs of butterbeer.

“Dig in,” Sirius said to the group. “Afterwards we’ll finish our shopping together.”

~ | ~

The Marauders, Hermione and Regulus stood in the long queue of back-to-school shoppers crowding the Apothecary, waiting to make their purchases of Potions ingredients for the upcoming school term.

“I _hate_ Potions,” Peter complained to Remus as they stood side-by-side, frowning at the sixth year Potions kit in his hand.

Hermione stood behind them and peered around the little shop searching for a specific ingredient for a potion she was planning on learning how to brew in the near future.

“Then why are you taking it?” she asked Peter once she spotted the small container of aconite leaves behind the till, out of the reach of customers. It made sense, considering just how toxic the leaves were if handled improperly. She gave Peter her full attention as she waited for his response.

“I need to if I want a decent choice of careers after Hogwarts,” Peter informed her as he turned around to face her and Sirius. “I’m not entirely certain what I want to do.”

Hermione hummed quietly. “What do you hate about it? Perhaps a tutor can help if you’re having difficulties.”

Peter chuckled dryly. “I can brew potions just fine, Hermione. I _did_ get an Exceeds Expectations on my Potions O.W.L. afterall. I’m just not keen on the professor.”

_“Oh?”_ Hermione frowned at the information. “Professor Slughorn? Sirius mentioned him to me the other day.” She decided to play dumb to see exactly why Peter didn’t like the man. Although, she had a few reasons of her own for disliking him after having him as her professor prior to her travel back in time.

Nodding, Peter focused on Hermione. “Yeah, _him._ He’s got his favourites; everyone else is invisible.”

“He likes to collect things,” Sirius muttered in Hermione’s ear. “People especially. Anyone that can get him tickets to the Quidditch World Cup or reservations at some posh restaurant. Anyone that can give him some clout in the Wizarding World.” He sighed tiredly. “He wanted both me and Regulus under his tutelage as Head of Slytherin House. Wanted to collect the _entire_ set of the House of Black.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. It was the same thing that she had experienced during her shortened sixth year before the Headmaster’s untimely death. Slughorn had been keen on her _not only_ because she’d been Harry’s childhood Muggle-born friend before he’d sided with Voldemort, but also because she’d been the cleverest witch of her year. “Is he someone I should be cautious of?” she asked Sirius.

Sirius shrugged at her question as he ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t hurt to be.”

~ | ~

“I can smell something on her. _Someone,”_ Remus said in a hushed whisper to Sirius from somewhere nearby as Hermione read about the security measures of the trunk she was standing in front of.

She was keen on purchasing a trunk with blood wards, given the items that she needed to keep secure. She wasn’t certain just how trustworthy her future dorm mates would be.

“Greyback?” Sirius asked his friend.

Hermione held her breath as she waited for Remus’ response.

“Is she–”

“No,” Sirius cut Remus off. “She was just scratched. And it wasn’t during a full moon either.”

“Does she know about… _me?”_

“I never told her,” Sirius reassured his friend. “I swear it on my magic. Perhaps she smelled it on you as well,” he suggested quietly. “Maybe she doesn’t even know. You know how paranoid you get a few days before the full moon.”

Hermione cleared her throat before Remus could respond. “I think I’d like to purchase this one.” She turned around, spotting Sirius and Remus standing a few feet away and gave the young men a smile as she gestured to the dark, charcoal-coloured trunk she’d been reading up on. “Is it alright that it’s a bit more expensive than the others?” 

Sirius grinned at her as he stepped closer. “That’s fine.” He raised a brow at her after reading about the trunk. “Blood wards, huh? Are you hiding something, Granger?”

“Perhaps I just don’t trust anyone,” Hermione countered dryly.

Sirius barked in laughter. “That would be a side-effect of being around my mother and father. Their paranoia must be wearing off on you, little lion.” He held out his elbow for Hermione to grasp and then led them to the till to make the purchase. 

After arranging for her trunk to be taken back to Grimmauld Place by Kreacher, Sirius grinned at Hermione and Remus as they left the shop. “Let’s go see if Reg and Prongs have started hexing one another in Quality Quidditch Supplies.” He paused. “Hopefully Wormtail didn’t get caught in the crossfire!”

~ | ~

“Spill.” Sirius crossed his arms across his chest as he leaned back against the arm of the large sofa in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place.

“Excuse me?” Hermione couldn’t hide her confusion. She had no idea what Sirius wanted her to spill.

_“Wormtail.”_ He gestured at her with a knowing smirk. “You don’t trust him, little lion. Why not?”

_Damn._ She’d hoped that Sirius had forgotten about her reaction to Pettigrew earlier in the day. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

_“Bullshit, Granger!”_ Sirius snapped. “You looked like you were about to hex him into oblivion!” He jabbed a finger in her general direction as he scoffed in disbelief. “Mother is right, you _are_ a shit liar. I can’t believe that I actually agree with anything that nutter has to say.”

Clenching her jaw until her teeth ached, Hermione remained silent, unwilling to break her silence on Pettigrew. She peered down her nose at the young man as she jutted out her chin in stubbornness.

She would not play this game. Not today. And definitely not with Sirius.

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake!” Sirius yelled at her as he leaped up from the sofa and paced the room a couple of times before sitting back down. “You know him! From your time!” He fumed as he tried a new angle to get her to talk. “Yes or no?”

Hermione frowned, noticing with relief that Orion was stepping cautiously into the room.

“What is all this ruckus?” Orion asked his eldest son.

“Granger looked like she wanted to jinx Peter when we all had lunch together at the Leaky Cauldron,” Sirius explained to his father. “I want to know why she feels that way about one of my best friends!”

“I told you already, I didn’t expect him to turn up! You told me he wasn’t supposed to!” Hermione stubbornly shook her head. “I come from a time where this ridiculous Wizarding War that you barely hear about today is in _full force._ People were not only disappearing without a trace, but they were also being murdered in their homes. In their _sleep._ The Ministry in my time had been taken over by You-Know-Who, while my best friends were either _murdered_ or had chosen to side with that _fucking_ monster!” She slapped away a tear as it slid down her cheek. “Pardon me for being vigilant. I’ve had to be, or else I’d end up _dead!”_

Hermione leaped up from her chair and fled the drawing room, not stopping until she reached her bedroom and slammed the door. She gasped for breath as she collapsed on the edge of her bed, holding her head in her hands while she tried to get her anger back under control.

She was vaguely aware of her bedroom door opening and closing as she continued the breathing exercises that Regulus had recommended to her during their time in Diagon Alley.

Hermione focused on the dark wooden floorboards, counting their ancient nicks and grooves. A few scour marks littered the floor, most likely from some experimentation or duel in the ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

Black boots, peeking out from underneath numerous layers of a dark, emerald-coloured dress, appeared just in her line of vision. Her desk chair was pulled across the floor, scraping the wood even more.

Hermione swallowed as Walburga Black sat down directly in front of her. Slowly she lifted her head to see what the witch wanted.

“What–”

_“Legilimens!”_

Hermione gasped as her time at lunch earlier in the day came to the forefront of her mind.

Her reaction to Peter Pettigrew’s arrival was plain for Walburga to see.

“No!” Hermione yelled out as she tried desperately to push Lady Black out of her mind. Instead the witch found another memory to intrude on.

_“Peter Pettigrew’s dead!” said Harry. “He killed him twelve years ago!”_

_Hermione watched in absolute terror as Harry jabbed a finger at the emancipated man sprawled on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack._

_“I meant to,” Sirius growled, his yellow teeth bared, “but little Peter got the better of me… not this time though!” He lunged at Ron, causing the redhead to cry out in pain as Black’s weight fell on his broken leg._

_“Sirius, NO!” Lupin yelled out as he dragged the prisoner away from Ron. “WAIT! You can’t do it just like that – they need to understand – we’ve got to explain–”_

_“We can explain afterwards!” snarled Black, as he reached out again for Ron._

“Walburga, NO!” Orion reprimanded his wife, interrupting Hermione’s memory.

The action forced the witch out of Hermione’s head.

Hermione found herself back in the bedroom in Grimmauld Place, once again sitting on the edge of her bed. Lady Black was sitting in front of her with her wand still drawn and pointing in her direction.

“Explain child!” Walburga ordered. 

“Walburga,” Orion placed his hand heavily on his wife’s shoulder. “That was uncalled for.”

“Why was my heir in _filthy_ prisoner’s robes?” Walburga hissed at Hermione as she shrugged Orion’s hand off of her shoulder.

“He’s not your heir _then,”_ Hermione gasped. “You had blasted him off of the tapestry, remember?” She clutched her head, which was beginning to throb in pain from the unwanted intrusion. She instantly understood Harry’s reluctance to learn Occlumency from Professor Snape in their fifth year. “That's what I came here to prevent. One of the things, at least. I’ve told you this already.”

_“Muffliato.”_ Orion waved his wand at Hermione’s bedroom door and threw up an Imperturbable Charm as well for good measure.

“My son meant to kill Pettigrew.” Walburga smirked at Hermione, pride shining in her pale grey eyes. “Why?”

Hermione watched as Orion transfigured a chair and sat down next to his wife, waiting for her to speak. He would not be helping her out of this confrontation with Lady Black. She sniffed and cleared her throat. “Because… he betrayed a lot of people and got them killed.” She looked worriedly at Orion. “He framed Sirius for his murder and the murder of a dozen Muggles.” She took a deep breath and continued, “And Sirius had no one to help him get a fair trial, or any trial at all, because you had blasted him off of the tapestry when he was only a boy. All because he refused to be marked by your Dark Lord.”

Walburga remained silent, obviously churning over Hermione’s explanation of what she’d seen in her memory. “Pettigrew is a spy for the Dark Lord.”

Hermione frowned, shaking her head. “Not right now, as far as I’m aware.” She thought back to what Remus had told her of the First Wizarding War. “I was informed that there had been a spy in Dumbledore’s Order for at least a year prior to You-Know-Who’s temporary downfall. After Sirius was chucked in Azkaban, everyone just assumed that the spy was him given the family he’s from.”

“You need to know when this Pettigrew boy switches sides,” Orion murmured quietly.

Hermione shook her head once again. “No. I need to _prevent_ him from switching sides. No one from my time understood why he did so in the first place.” She paused. “I’ve since learned that his grandmother is quite ill. Perhaps You-Know-Who will offer to help him find a cure for whatever she has.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“If you want Walburga and I to help you, Miss Granger, you are going to need to explain _exactly_ what Pettigrew did in your past.” Orion raised a brow at her. “I think it is only fair.”

“Sirius can’t learn about it. He’d go completely mad.”

“Myself and Walburga will never tell him.” Orion paused. “I swear. We will take a wizard’s oath if we must.”

Hermione pondered the deal offered by Lord Black for a few minutes in silence as she determined the best course of action to take. Then she nodded in agreement at Orion’s conditions and watched as both he and Walburga swore it on their magic that they wouldn’t share the details of Peter Pettigrew’s past or potential future with anyone outside the room.

Exhaling deeply, Hermione pondered just what to tell Lord and Lady Black. “In my past, the Potters – specifically James Potter, along with his pregnant wife – went into hiding in the first half of 1980,” she began quietly. “They’d been living under the Fidelius Charm, with Sirius as their secret keeper for quite some time. In fact, he was their secret keeper until he convinced them to change it to Peter in order to draw out You-Know-Who. Your son used himself as bait in order to protect his friends. To protect his _chosen_ family.” She swallowed before continuing, “What Sirius didn’t realise at the time was that Peter was the spy. He had effectively handed the Potters on a serving platter to You-Know-Who. His actions led to the deaths of his best friend and his wife. It led to his godson growing up without his parents.”

She frowned as she focused on the floor once again. “Realising just what he had done, Sirius hunted Peter down and eventually confronted him in the middle of a Muggle neighbourhood. However, instead of going quietly, Peter loudly accused Sirius of betraying the Potters before blasting the street open and escaping. He left behind a severed finger, allowing Aurors to arrest Sirius, who was…” she hesitated, “he was apparently laughing uncontrollably in the middle of the street. I think he _broke._ He just lost it.”

“Why was the Dark Lord after the Potters?” Orion asked her after a moment of silence. “The Potter family doesn’t normally draw too much attention to themselves.”

Hermione shook her head. “Does it matter?”

“It really does, Miss Granger,” Walburga drawled.

Hermione sighed. “A prophecy. That I will _not_ be talking about,” she insisted quietly. “I also know that James Potter sided with Dumbledore. My mentor informed me that he also provided funds for–”

_“_ Dumbledore’s ridiculous _Order of the Phoenix,”_ Walburga finished for Hermione, shaking her head in disappointment. “Foolish boy. Not even Fleamont and Euphemia trust Dumbledore _that_ much, even though they are blood-traitors.”

“Perhaps it’s time to make amends with the Potter family, Walburga,” Orion suggested quietly. “I’m certain they’d appreciate being invited to our Christmas gathering this year.”

“That can be arranged, dear,” Walburga replied with a sly grin. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was preparing to take control of Wizarding Britain once again.

Orion hummed as he took in Hermione sitting on the bed. “Tell us, Miss Granger, why you reacted in such a way when you saw the Pettigrew boy this afternoon?”

Hermione frowned, her eyes darting between him and Walburga who raised a brow at her. _Oh._ This was a test. A fib that she now needed to sell. “Because… he reminded me of a boy that I’d had a bad experience with during my time at Hogwarts. This particular boy was a heartless bully who took pleasure in harming anyone who didn’t worship him.” She paused, thinking quickly. “I was caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of Peter, given how much they look alike, and, due to the stress that I’ve been under recently, I reacted in an inappropriate way.” She met Walburga’s gaze dead on. “And for that I am terribly sorry. I promise that it won’t happen again.”

Pride washed over Walburga’s face. “Good girl.”

~ | ~

Hermione winced as the latch on her school trunk pricked her finger, completing the simple blood wards and securing her trunk so that only she could open it.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door.

“Come in!” she called out as she set her wand down on her bed and lifted the heavy lid on her charcoal-coloured trunk to begin her packing.

“Packing already?” Sirius asked her with curiosity, as he stepped into her room and gently closed her door.

Hermione rose slowly to her feet and gave him a cautious nod of her head. “Uh… yeah. Some of my stuff at least.” She gestured with one hand to her bum-bag and a few of her school supplies piled on her desk, as she sucked on the bleeding finger of her other.

Sirius’ gaze dropped down to the floor as he nodded. “I wanted to apologise for my behaviour this afternoon.” His eyes met hers once again as he stepped closer. “Father explained to me why you reacted the way you did. With Peter, I mean.” He chuckled sadly. “I’d thought you just didn’t like him for whatever reason and I panicked and then acted like a complete tosser when I confronted you about it. I didn’t realise that you had been bullied by some git who looked like Peter when you went to Hogwarts in your time.” He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but found that she couldn’t say a word; she couldn’t lie to him. Not Sirius. “You care for your friends,” she settled on.

Sirius nodded. “I do.”

“I apologise for being rude to Peter and for yelling at you when you confronted me about it.” Hermione frowned. “I’ve got a bit of a temper.”

Sirius chuckled quietly as he ran a hand through his hair. “So do I.” He made his way closer to where Hermione was standing, between her bed and school trunk, and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“Do you need help packing?” he asked her, changing the topic.

Hermione grabbed her pewter cauldron and Potions kit and set them down in her trunk. “Not really.” She frowned. “But, you’re more than welcome to keep me company if you’d like.” She grabbed her bum-bag and sat down next to Sirius on her bed.

“What the hell _is_ that?” Sirius blurted out as he stared at the small bag in her lap. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about it for weeks.”

Hermione chuckled. “It’s called a bum-bag. Basically, it’s a hands-free purse.” She cleared her throat as she peered at Sirius with amusement. “Don’t tell your parents, but it’s a Muggle invention that was popular in the 1980s and early 1990s.” 

Sirius chortled with surprised laughter.

She gestured to the bag in question. “I’ve made a few enchantments on this particular one, so I can’t just throw it away.” 

“What sorts of enchantments?”

Hermione merely grinned at Sirius as she zipped open the bag and reached in up to her elbow.

“Undetectable Extension Charm,” Sirius muttered in awe. “That’s really advanced magic!”

“It’s also heavily controlled by the Ministry given the potential breaches of secrecy if a Muggle somehow came in possession of an item such as this bag,” Hermione lectured him as she began pulling out the items she had brought with her to the past.

“You brought a Potions textbook, a notebook, a change of clothes, and a quill with you.” Sirius peered at Hermione with confusion. “That’s it?”

Hermione handed the textbook to Sirius. “Open it. I’ve got a bookmark in there somewhere.”

She watched as Sirius found the indicated bookmark and carefully opened the textbook. _“Wolfsbane Potion?”_ His eyes darted up to look at Hermione. “Is this… there’s a cure?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. There’s no cure.” She hesitated. “However, a potioneer by the name of Damocles Belby will eventually invent this potion in 1980. It eases the symptoms of lycanthropy, allowing one to keep their mind during transformation. Rather than transforming into a werewolf, the lycanthrope instead transforms into an ordinary – albeit somewhat sleepy – wolf.

“One problem – there are quite a few – is that this potion is ridiculously difficult to brew,” Hermione told Sirius quietly. “If it’s not done properly, it will kill the lycanthrope. It’s also stupidly expensive as well, preventing pretty much every single infected person from being able to brew it themselves.”

“Have you done it? Brewed this?” Sirius asked as he began to quickly read through the complicated instructions.

Hermione shook her head. “No. I’ve been too afraid to try.”

“You knew Remus from your time,” Sirius prompted her. “You’ve mentioned him before.” 

“He was my third year Defence professor,” Hermione admitted. “And my mentor.” She gestured to the textbook in Sirius’ lap. “He had been provided with the Wolfsbane Potion during his tenure at Hogwarts. I had wanted to try to help him in this time if I could, and given that I’m _not_ an animagus, registered or otherwise,” she stared pointedly at Sirius who was smirking at her, “I found this book and brought it with me.” 

“And the quill?” Sirius asked her. “You went out of your way to get a new one.”

“This one is self-inking.” Hermione grinned at his surprise. “It was invented by the Weasley twins in 1996.”

“The Weasley twins?”

Hermione started snickering as she nodded. “Yep. The biggest troublemakers that Hogwarts has ever seen since the _legendary_ Marauders.” She grinned at Sirius as his eyes shined with joy. 

“It feels good to be a role model,” Sirius joked as he wrapped an arm around Hermione, giving her a half-hearted hug. “Are we alright, little lion? You and I?”

Hermione peered into Sirius’ eyes and nodded. “We are. I promise.”

  
  
  



End file.
